


Sometimes, You Get What You Need

by Sarah_Black



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Awkwardness, Character Development, Chocolate, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Firsts, Fluff, Hot Tub, Jealousy, Older Man/Younger Woman, Past Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Romance, Sexual Content, Sexual Frustration, Sexual Tension, Shameless Smut, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smut, mentions of past Sansa/Joffrey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-13 01:51:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 218,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4503210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarah_Black/pseuds/Sarah_Black
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa is going on the annual Stark-Baratheon ski trip. On the way to the lodge she notices Stannis - who always generally looks and acts like an annoyed vicar - is <i>very</i> happy to see her. Things snowball from there. Modern AU, slow burn romance. Watch out kids, it gets kind of smutty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An interesting ride

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my beta [spittingfeathers](http://archiveofourown.org/users/spittingfeathers/pseuds/spittingfeathers) for going on this journey with me. You're the best! All remaining goofs and mistakes in the text are mine.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** GRRM owns all, I do not profit. You know the drill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 1 was also beta read by [iheartdramas](http://archiveofourown.org/users/iheartdramas/pseuds/iheartdramas). Thanks so much for the helpful comments!

Sansa woke up feeling a mixture of dread and excitement. 

Today she'd be leaving for the annual Stark-Baratheon ski trip. It always took place in her father's mountain lodge, a huge, sprawling thing, capable of housing a regiment of people. This year she had been allowed to bring her friend, Margaery Tyrell, because Arya was lousy company, and there were no other girls even remotely close to her age in the group. Therefore, Sansa hoped, this year's trip ought to be slightly more bearable than it had been in the past.

As she went through her morning routine and packed a few last minute items, she wondered if Renly would spend the entire time locked up in his room like last year. It had been dreadful. Renly was the only member of the party who was both good looking, and not related to her. Unfortunately, it wouldn't do her much good to flirt with him. Margaery had confided in her that Renly was actually going out with her brother, Loras. Still, she was allowed to _look_.

Sansa paused to stare at her reflection after she had finished packing her toiletries. She knew she was quite good looking. If it weren't for Margaery she might be the prettiest girl in school. She knew some people thought she was prettier than Margaery. Sansa took great pride in her appearance, unlike Arya – who would run out of the house without even brushing her hair. Sansa thought back to the last occasion she had to really dress up with considerable satisfaction. It had been her eighteenth birthday, and even Margaery had been speechless for a few seconds. Of course, she had recovered quickly and said something like – "Wow, Sansa! I didn't think you had it in you."

It wasn’t as if Sansa was a prude. But she never really felt the need to dress in revealing clothing like Margaery sometimes did. However, if the occasion warranted it, she was definitely not above wearing a tight little dress to show off her figure. She might not have the most voluptuous curves, but she knew that they were in perfect proportion and suited her well.

The thing was, that when she did dress like that, she didn't quite know how to handle the attention from the boys. At her birthday party it hadn't been an issue since her brothers Robb and Jon had been there to glare at anyone who looked like they might be working up the courage to hit on her. (They had been a tad protective after the whole Joffrey debacle.) But most days at school she preferred to dress more conservatively. 

Her first relationship had made her wary of boys. Joffrey Lannister, who had been Joffrey Baratheon at the time, had always been around Sansa when she was growing up. When Robert Baratheon, her father's best friend, was still married to that witch Cersei, the Baratheon children had been in and out of her house almost as much as the Stark kids were in and out of theirs.

Once puberty hit them, Joffrey's good looks and charm had Sansa convinced that he was The One, but it turned out that he was only interested in one thing. He tried everything to convince her, but she hadn't felt ready for sex and resisted him at every turn. Finally, one horrible evening he groped her breasts despite her protests, tearing her shirt in the process. Then he had gone on to stick his hand up her skirt, his fingers clumsily prodding her most intimate places painfully. He only stopped when she slapped him, and with angry tears in her eyes threatened to set the dog on him. He gave up on her after that, and went around school saying she was a ‘frigid little bitch’ and other horrible things. It broke her heart. She was only fifteen at the time.

Sansa had been very relieved when Robert and Cersei got a divorce a year later. Myrcella had been in a riding accident and lost enough blood to need a blood transfusion. When the blood type she needed was revealed, Robert realised that he wasn't Myrcella's biological father. It turned out none of the children were his! He was furious and filed for divorce right away. Sansa had no idea who the real father was, but Cersei had returned to using her Lannister surname and the children followed suit.

The divorce meant that Sansa didn't have to spend every family holiday avoiding Joffrey. She only had to put up with her own annoying siblings, as usual. 

"Sansa, are you going to take much longer? We're loading the car up!"

Sansa started and looked at her bedroom door. Her mother's voice had sounded rushed and slightly harassed. She picked up her luggage and left her bedroom behind in a hurry. “Coming!” she called, and ran down the stairs. She didn't want to be the last one to the car.

Half an hour later her mother had managed to pack Sansa, Arya, Bran, Rickon, Robb and Jon into their huge SUV, along with a lot more luggage than they probably needed. It was incredibly cramped, but thankfully Sansa was sitting next to Jon and not Arya - at least Jon wouldn't constantly fidget.

Sansa remembered a time when she barely tolerated Jon. He was only her half brother, and she had always seen how her mother resented the fact that her father insisted Jon be a part of their family. Jon's mother was a mystery to Sansa. All she had ever been told was that the mother wanted nothing to do with Jon, and had demanded Sansa's father should raise him. Sansa had always tried to show solidarity with her mother by being cold towards Jon, but Jon had been the one who was really there for her when Joffrey had broken her heart. The rest of her family had been kind too, but Jon had somehow really understood her. Sansa had made an effort to be kinder to him ever since.

***

Someone was shaking Sansa's shoulder gently, and saying something.

"Wake up sleeping beauty, it's time to change cars."

Sansa opened her eyes, and looked at Jon's smiling face. She must have fallen asleep on the way. There was a painful crick in her neck, so she tried to roll her shoulders and turn her head this way and that to loosen up.

"Thanks for waking me. Why are we changing cars?" she asked as Jon helped her get out of the SUV. It was a bit of a drop to the ground, so she was grateful for his steadying hand.

"Dad said something about the tires and the four wheel drive being unreliable. The Baratheons are driving a jeep that is more suitable to getting us up to the cabin. We're going to have to make a few trips, but it's only a ten minute drive. Dad has already taken Catelyn, Robb and the boys up. He just got back with the car."

Sansa nodded as Jon imparted the information, and looked around. She spotted Margaery talking to Renly a little way away.

Sansa thanked Jon again and ran over to them. Jon just shook his head and went to help Robert and her father with some of the luggage.

"Margaery! I'm so glad you made it! How was the ride with the Baratheons?" Sansa exclaimed as she and Margaery hugged each other.

Margaery, dressed impeccably in designer outdoor wear, gave Sansa her most brilliant smile and told her that the trip had been fine, and that she had just been catching up with Renly. Sansa greeted Renly as well, and after the obligatory small talk they turned around and went to help load the car up for its second trip to the cabin.

"The jeep only seats five, technically, so we might have to make a third trip," Sansa's father said to her when she handed him the last bag for the trunk.

"Don't be absurd!" boomed Robert Baratheon. "Let's see – I'm driving, Ned will go in the front seat. Stannis, Renly and Jon will go in the back, and Margaery, Sansa and Arya can just sit on their laps. It's only a 10 minute drive, they won't come to any harm."

"I'm sitting with Jon!" Arya shouted immediately. 

Sansa rolled her eyes. Of course Arya would want to bounce around in a jeep, unbuckled like a savage. When Sansa glanced at Margaery to communicate her exasperation with her, she saw Margaery inch closer to Renly.

 _Great_. That would leave Sansa sitting with Stannis. Sansa gave the stern man a quick glance. He was standing back from the rest of them, wearing hiking boots, black jeans and a simple, but warm looking black fleece jacket. It was zipped all the way up to his chin. He reminded Sansa of an annoyed vicar. She knew he wasn't as old as her father and Robert, but sometimes she forgot that he was only in his early thirties. It was probably because of that scowl that seemed to be permanently etched onto his features.

Sansa's father seemed to be a bit concerned about Robert's plan but it was getting darker and colder by the minute so no one really wanted to be left behind. Since Sansa's mother wasn't there, and there were no small children involved, he finally decided it should be safe enough.

They all climbed into the car. Stannis and Sansa were the last to get in. 

"Hi," Sansa said, feeling a little shy and awkward. She had never really spent much time talking to Stannis. She knew he ran a branch of Baratheon Industries, and that he took his work way more seriously than Robert ever seemed to. He tended to spend most family gatherings glued to his cellphone, making business calls and speaking in clipped, annoyed tones. She knew he had got a divorce one year after Robert did, although people tended to forget about it because Robert's divorce had been so dramatic. But Sansa was fond of Shireen, Stannis' daughter, and had coaxed the whole story from the timid young girl last Christmas.

Apparently, Shireen's mother Selyse had only married Stannis for his money. She had expected to live in the lap of luxury like Cersei had done. In a fine mansion, with a pool and servants. If she had bothered to get to know Stannis she might have known that he was not the type to throw money around on frivolous things like mansions. He refused to even buy a house, saying that his apartment – admittedly a penthouse apartment in the best part of the city – was more convenient for his work. Early on in their relationship Selyse had held on to the hope that she would be able to convince Stannis to move to a bigger place when they had children, but Shireen came along and Stannis still refused to move.

Shireen said that she thought that her mother had stopped trying after that, and only really stuck around to raise Shireen. When Shireen turned eleven years old Selyse decided to send her to boarding school, get a divorce and move to France.

Sansa felt terribly sorry for the girl, but Shireen seemed to take it all in a stride. She told Sansa that she actually loved her boarding school. "If I didn't love my school, my father would make other arrangements for me. He really cares about me, you know." She also said that she had never been that close with her mother anyway. She had always spent more time with her tutors. "My mother cares about me in her way, but I think she's always been a bit sad that I didn't turn out to be more like her."

Stannis didn't return Sansa's shy greeting, he grimaced, got into the car and held out a hand to help Sansa climb in. Sansa almost laughed at the put-upon expression on his face. Surely it couldn't be that terrible to have to sit under her for ten minutes?

He was polite enough, and helped Sansa get herself situated on his lap, but he continued to look deeply annoyed with the proceedings. She tried to perch herself so that her back was not pressed to his chest, like Margaery and Arya were sitting. Arya and Jon were sitting further away by the other window, and Renly and Margaery where in the middle.

"Everyone in? Comfortable? All right, off we go!" Robert shouted, raising his voice as he turned the key in the ignition and the jeep's engine roared.

The jeep accelerated suddenly, and Sansa was thrown against Stannis uncomfortably. He let out a slightly surprised breath, and Sansa stammered a quick apology. Margaery smirked at them, and then struck up a conversation with Renly and Jon. Leaving Sansa to try to make small talk with Stannis.

"I'm glad you were able to take time off work to come to the cabin this year," Sansa said, trying to be polite. Most years she didn't actually care either way whether he was able to make it or not, but according to Shireen he could do with a little less work.

Stannis didn't really answer her, simply huffed out a breath that could have meant anything from ‘thanks’ to ‘sure, whatever’. This surprised Sansa. Stannis wasn't a big talker, but he was generally polite enough to at least use words. Even if he generally tried to keep the number of words he used to a minimum.

The jeep was driving on a very rough road, and started to jostle the people in the back around. Jon held on to Arya protectively, causing her to complain loudly. "Jon! I'm not a baby, I'll be _fine_!"

Renly's arms were around Margaery's middle, holding her securely. She did not complain, and distracted Arya by asking her about her fencing lessons. Loras went to the same instructor as Arya, so this was a subject that would last them for the rest of the journey.

Sansa on the other hand, had to grab onto the handle above the door to keep from bouncing around in a very unladylike way. She wished Stannis would do something to hold her in place, but the thought of him putting his arms around her made her blush a little. She didn't quite know why.

The next time the jeep gave Sansa a particularly big jolt she got her wish. Stannis grabbed a hold of her waist, keeping her securely in place. Maybe it was just the movement of the car, but Sansa could have sworn he pressed her to him a little as he did it. She decided against saying anything, and the others seemed to be too immersed in their conversation to notice that anything had happened.

Sansa shifted around a little, trying to get more comfortable, when she felt Stannis go very still and his grip got tighter – as if he were wordlessly trying to prevent her from moving. She wondered if she'd inadvertently hurt him somehow and was about to ask him and apologise, when she realised what the likely reason was.

There was _something_ pressing into her backside, that she recognised from the few times when she had sat in Joffrey's lap when they had been dating. It had always embarrassed her a little, but excited her too. It was a powerful feeling, to know that just being near a man could cause a reaction like that.

But Stannis! He was so much older than her! He wasn't some teenager with hormones out of control. Her heart started beating rapidly and she felt her face flush. She was very grateful that Margaery was facing the other way, or she would have known immediately what was going on from the look on Sansa's face. For some reason Sansa didn't want Margaery to know. She had a feeling Stannis was even more embarrassed than she was, and she suddenly felt weirdly protective of him.

She also felt intensely curious. Was his reaction just a physical one that had nothing to do with her? Or did he like her particularly? If he'd been younger, it would have been easier for her to believe that it was just a random response, but Stannis was no teenager. From what she gathered, men got better at controlling themselves with age. At least Margaery said it was always better to have sex with older guys, because they would last long enough to be "useful". Whatever that meant.

If it wasn't just biology playing a trick on him, why on earth would he like her in particular? He barely ever spoke to her, and she was closer to his daughter in age than she was to him! Maybe he thought she was pretty? But he never acted like an idiot about it like Robert. Robert always went around complimenting every pretty girl he saw. If it weren't for her father, she was willing to bet that Robert would have flirted with her and Margaery already.

The next time the jeep jolted, Sansa used the motion to press herself firmly against Stannis, just to see how he would react. She didn't know what she expected, but he sucked in a quiet breath and tightened his grip on her slightly for a second, before returning to a looser grip. She hadn't had a chance to analyse this reaction, or attempt a second experiment, when the jeep came to a halt.

"We're here!" Arya shouted jubilantly and jumped out of the car.

Sansa had barely had time to process this, when she felt herself be lifted out of the car – Jon had come around to help her out – and she felt Stannis brush past her and head straight into the cabin. Without even stopping to help with any of the luggage.

"What's his problem?" grumbled Renly, as Margery pushed three bags into his arms. "I'm not a mule!" he added, when it looked as though she was preparing to hand him a fourth.

Sansa wondered if she'd somehow made Stannis angry, and that he'd gone inside to get away from her. Or whether he was just embarrassed. However, she did her best to stop thinking about it as she took over Renly's position and received her share of luggage to tote inside. Margaery had the uncanny ability to guess Sansa's thoughts, and she didn't want to talk about Stannis with her.

***

Stannis hadn't had a good excuse to get out of the Stark – Baratheon cabin trip this year. Robert insisted he needed the time off. "You have to relax more! I'm sure the fresh air will do you good. Don't be such a stick in the mud!"

But Stannis had never been very comfortable with holidays. He was in his element when he was working. That's where he knew exactly what he was supposed to be doing and where he fit in the chain of command. It didn't hurt that he was nearly at the top of the chain of command. He only answered to Robert, really. And Robert very rarely interfered with Stannis' branch of Baratheon Industries, so it hardly mattered.

Stannis only wished he had control of more of the Industry. He dreaded the day when Renly would want to take over part of it. Maybe he was controlling, but the fact was that he was much better suited to running the company than Robert or Renly. They were just so frivolous sometimes. He was working on convincing Robert to go into early retirement, but that wouldn't be for some time yet.

"Stannis! We need to leave now if we're to pick the Tyrell girl up on time!" Robert's voice carried through his apartment door. Stannis sighed and opened the door.

"Ever heard of knocking, Robert?" he asked and frowned at his brother.

Robert just laughed and offered to help Stannis carry his bag. Stannis only had one bag, so he refused the offer. He was perfectly capable of carrying it himself.

Robert's state of the art jeep didn't leave much of an impression on Stannis. He noticed it was new, but other than the fact that the tyres were bigger than they probably needed to be, he couldn't have said much about it. He'd never been very interested in cars.

The trip to the Tyrell residence was uneventful, and the Tyrell girl mostly talked to Renly once she was in the car. They sat in the back together, and Stannis was in the front with Robert. Robert knew better than to make inane smalltalk with Stannis. He spent the rest of the journey to the mountains staring moodily out the window and wishing he were at work instead.

He thought about Shireen and wondered if he should have pressed harder for her to come along to the cabin too. But she had been content to stay at school for the Easter holidays. "Dad, you know I'm terrified of skiing. I'd much rather stay here and get a head start on reading for my exams."

Stannis respected her wishes, but sometimes he wondered if she wanted him to convince her to spend more time with him. Maybe she only said she wanted to stay at school because she thought that he didn't want to spend time with her? But he'd told her that he always enjoyed spending time with her. Surely she knew that he wouldn't say that if he didn't mean it?

Before he knew it, they had arrived at the parking lot close to the Stark cabin where they had agreed to meet the Stark family. Apparently their big SUV wasn't properly kitted out to drive the mountain road up to the cabin. Stannis thought it was unusual of Stark to be so unprepared for the conditions, but according to Robert it was a temporary situation. Annoying, none the less.

Stannis walked off to make a phone call while Robert and Eddard Stark greeted each other with many manly back-slaps and shouted comments. The shouting was mainly Robert, of course. 

Stannis spoke to Davos, his second in command, and gave some last minute instructions to carry out while he was on holiday. Davos assured him that everything would be fine. "It's the holidays Stannis! Nothing will happen while you're away - just try to enjoy yourself!"

"Make sure to watch Melisandre. She's a damn good attorney, but I don't trust her entirely." Stannis had already given Davos these instructions before he left work the day before, but something about Melisandre put him on edge. So he decided to repeat himself.

"I know, I agree with you. But she's gone on holiday as well. You have nothing to worry about!" Davos said, and there was amused exasperation in his tone.

"Fine," Stannis said and ended the call. He knew Davos wouldn't be offended at the abruptness. 

Stannis looked back towards the cars. It appeared as if Eddard would be driving his wife and three of his sons up to the cabin to start with. Robert was working with the remaining Stark boy – Jon, he thought – to unload luggage from the Stark's SUV. Renly and Margaery were standing around uselessly, and that wild Stark girl was running around investigating the area. The redheaded Stark girl, Sansa, was sleeping inside the SUV.

He debated whether he should go and help his brother with the luggage, but decided to keep an eye on Arya, who was currently trying to climb a nearby tree. She was around Shireen's age, and he wanted to make sure she didn't harm herself.

Twenty minutes later – Stannis hadn't been able to resist making a few more calls while he watched the girl climb tree after tree – the jeep returned.

A flash of red caught his attention by the Stark SUV. It was Sansa's long hair. It looked like her brother had finally decided to wake her up. It had been a while since Stannis had seen Sansa, and she had changed since he saw her last. The awkwardness of teenagers had left her, and she moved as gracefully as a dancer. She reminded him of Catelyn when she was young, but more beautiful, if that was even possible. And she was definitely filling out her clothes in new and interesting ways…

Eddard said something to Robert, and even though Stannis was standing a little way away he could hear his brother's response clearly.

"Don't be absurd!" he shouted. "Let's see – I'm driving, Ned will go in the front seat. Stannis, Renly and Jon will go in the back, and Margaery, Sansa and Arya can just sit on their laps. It's only a 10 minute drive, they won't come to any harm."

"I'm sitting with Jon!" the wild little girl exclaimed immediately. When had she left the trees? Stannis had to admit that he'd lost sight of her while he'd been admiring Sansa. What was wrong with him? Was he turning into Robert? He felt his scowl deepen and had to stop himself from grinding his teeth together. Shireen was always telling him to stop doing that. His dentist too, come to think.

Still, he couldn't suppress the stupid hope that it would be Sansa and not Margaery who would sit with him in the car.

 _Honestly_. He clearly needed to find a woman to share his bed if he was thinking about Eddard's teenage daughter this way. He hadn't been with his wife for years before the divorce, and after the divorce he'd just not been interested for a time. He didn't want to follow his libido into another loveless marriage, and it just didn't seem very honorable to sleep around with any young lady that caught his fancy the way _some_ people did. He was regretting this now, as it seemed like his libido had chosen this moment to return with a vengeance.

He sighed and noticed that Sansa was waiting for him to climb into the car so that she could get in. He realised that he was about to get his wish. The thought of having Sansa in his lap, now that it was real and not just an idle thought, made him unaccountably nervous. He hoped she would not be able to read it on his face. 

She greeted him with a quiet word, and he tried to smile in return, but he was certain it ended up looking more like a pained grimace. Stannis took a deep breath and tried to get his straying thoughts under control. He would be a gentleman and help Sansa into the car. Then he would definitely _not_ paw at her like a depraved lech, and it would all be fine.

Finally Sansa was sitting on his lap, with a respectable distance between her back and his chest, and his idiot brother loudly declared that he would be driving off now. 

The sooner this was over the better. 

Stannis regretted this thought right away, because when Robert stepped on the gas and sent the jeep jerking forward, Sansa was thrown back against his chest. More importantly, her perfectly shaped behind was now situated directly on top of his groin. He let out a surprised breath at the unexpected, pleasant contact.

"I-I'm sorry!" Sansa stammered. Stannis wished he could see her face. Then she actually said that she was happy that he'd been able to make it this year. He hadn't realised she would care either way. He hadn't thought she would even notice, frankly. 

He huffed out a breath, unsure what to say to her. Was he unable to speak like a human being now? What on earth was wrong with him?

The jeep jostled the passengers in the back around and the younger Stark girl complained that her brother was holding her too protectively. Margaery seemed perfectly content being held by Renly, and was quick to distract Arya with some chatter. Stannis didn't dare put his arms around Sansa, and she seemed to be all right, although she sometimes had to grab onto the handle above the door.

However, the jeep gave them a particularly big jolt all of a sudden, and Stannis instinctively grabbed onto Sansa to keep her from being jostled around. His nose was now buried in her hair, and the scent of it was quite possibly the best thing that he had ever smelled in his life. He couldn't resist pressing her tighter against him as he breathed in, until he realised what he was doing and immediately loosened his grip.

To his horror, Sansa started wriggling around in his lap. His control was rapidly draining away. The combination of the vibrations from the car, the scent of her hair, the feel of her body in his arms, (it had been a very very very long time since he'd had a warm girl in his lap) and the girl actually _wriggling_ was causing a natural, but extremely embarrassing reaction in his nether regions. He panicked and grabbed Sansa tightly, trying to stop her wriggling. Sansa went still. He felt her breathing speed up and went pale as he realised that she _knew._

What must she think of him? Did she think he was like his brother Robert? Chasing after anything with two legs? He was usually in so much more control of himself. _What on earth was wrong with him today?_ He felt his heart racing, and wondered if Sansa could feel that too, seeing as her back was flush up against his chest.

What if she was offended? What if she was afraid? What if she was disgusted? _What if she told her father?_

Stannis was surprised that these thoughts, already causing a cold sweat to run down the back of his neck, didn't kill his libido entirely. Perhaps, if he could focus on what her father would do to him if he found out about this, his problem would go away?

This hopeful thought was wiped from his mind with the next jolt from the jeep. He swore the girl intentionally ground her arse into his groin. All rational thought fled his brain as every drop of blood in his body rushed to his erection. He was painfully hard, and the calming breath he attempted to suck in backfired horribly, as he inhaled a lungful of her intoxicating scent. He wanted to squeeze her and hold her even tighter, but he fought that impulse after giving into it for a brief second.

He honestly had no idea what he would have done if the jeep had continued to drive much longer, but thankfully the car came to a stop. As soon as Sansa was off his lap, he jumped out of the car and walked as fast as he could to the room that was normally his whenever he stayed in the Stark cabin. His room was kitted out with an en suite bathroom, it was only a tiny little thing with the necessary facilities and a shower booth, but it suited his needs perfectly. Once he was in the bathroom, and the door was locked, he allowed himself a moment of weakness. He struggled to release his erection from its painful confines in his jeans, and immediately wrapped his fist around it, pumping hard. Normally he would take care of this sort of business in his morning shower, if he felt the need for release, and he wouldn't think of anything specific at all.

Now his mind was full of illicit images of thick red hair flowing over his hands, twisted around his fingers. Smooth, creamy skin for as long as the eye could see. Perfect pink lips around the head of his cock and big, blue doe eyes looking up at him as if seeking his approval. Lovely, round breasts with tempting little nipples. A tiny waist and shapely legs – kneeling in front of him.

His nose was still full of her scent, and he couldn't help her name spilling from his lips when he came with a force he hadn't experienced since he was seventeen.

He was breathing as hard as if he'd been running for an hour, instead of jerking off for less than five minutes. He was nearly panting, damn it!

Now that his blood was free to return to his brain, he felt a growing sense of horror and shame wash over him. Had he really just fantasised about a teenage girl giving him a blow-job? How old was Sansa? He couldn't remember if his fantasy was even legal. Robert would probably say that looking and thinking about it was harmless, but Stannis felt like a complete lech.

He groaned and tried to focus on cleaning himself up. What was done was done. Hopefully it was out of his system now, and he'd be able to go the rest of the holiday without giving Sansa a second thought. He really couldn't afford these kinds of distractions. Perhaps he should look into finding a suitable companion. Someone who would keep him from lusting after any teenage girl who happened to stumble into his lap. Not that it was something that happened very often.

Perhaps if he had a nap before dinner he would wake up refreshed, and the last half an hour would feel less mortifying.


	2. The hot tub

Sansa was sharing a room with Margaery. It wasn't strictly necessary, but the two girls preferred it that way. They'd be able to talk late into the night if they wished, and Sansa really wanted to ask Margaery's advice about certain things.

The girls were both sitting on Sansa's bed, and Margaery was braiding some complicated pattern into Sansa's hair, glancing at instructions from a fashion magazine every now and then.

"So, you know how I haven't been interested in boys ever since Joffrey?" Sansa tentatively began. She would have to be very careful about what she said so it wouldn't be implied that something had happened between her and Stannis. She wasn't entirely sure that Margaery had been oblivious to the embarrassed looks that had passed between them at dinner, but she was hoping no one had noticed. Certainly, Stannis had gone back to his usual scowling self soon enough. If she hadn't been specifically looking for it, she probably wouldn't have noticed how he avoided eye contact with almost everyone - especially her father. But Margaery was very observant.

"You know how I feel about that -- you shouldn't have let that jerk Joffrey have such a big effect on you. Why are you bringing that up? Is there someone you're actually interested in?" Margaery became more and more excited with every question she asked, pausing in her work on Sansa's hair to turn her around and search her face for clues.

Sansa felt herself blush under the scrutiny. She would have to be very careful not to give anything away. Not that there really was anything to give away. Nothing had happened between her and Stannis. Not really.

"Well, no. Not really. Maybe. I'm not sure?" Sansa babbled and hid her face in her hands. She wasn't really sure about anything. She knew she wouldn't have given Stannis a second thought before today. It was just that his possible interest in her had made her think about him differently, and she'd realised that he wasn't actually that unattractive. All the Baratheon men had that whole tall, dark and handsome thing going on. Although Renly was definitely the most handsome now that Robert was getting old and fat. Stannis was definitely not ugly, but he didn't do anything to make himself look nice. He was always scowling instead of smiling, and he never styled his hair or beard. Renly's hair and beard on the other hand were always immaculate. However, Sansa had felt the hard chest and abdominal muscles that Stannis hid under his clothes in the jeep earlier, so she was relatively sure that Stannis at least took care of himself physically. An image of Stannis, strong, broad shouldered and covered in sweat at a gym passed before her mind's eye. Sansa felt her face warm at the thought.

"Sansa, don't be so mysterious! _Spill_ ," Margaery demanded, smiling her most mischievous smile.

Sansa squirmed and tried to think of something that would make sense, and that would help her get the advice she needed.

"Okay,” she said slowly, “there is someone who I think might like me, but I'm not sure - and I'm not sure if I like him either. I think I'd really like to find out whether he likes me for sure before I make up my mind, but I don’t know how to go about doing that!" 

Sansa felt this was relatively safe. Vague enough not to implicate Stannis, hopefully.

Margaery squealed and clapped her hands in delight. "Project!" she exclaimed.

"The first you have to do is spend more time with him! You’ll never know if he likes you if you avoid him! Then try wearing something a little revealing maybe, and watch his eyes when he sees you in it. It's not enough if he just looks once or twice, men are mostly pigs and will stare at any set of breasts they are presented with. If he keeps looking again and again, and seeks you out, and tries to stay near you, _that's_ when you have a good hint!"

While Margaery explained this, with a lot of hand gestures and knowing looks, Sansa nodded and agreed that Margaery's advice made a lot of sense. However, she didn't know if she was ready to start flaunting herself in front of Stannis just to see whether he'd try to sneak a glance or two. Somehow she had the feeling he'd be very hard to read. It would be difficult to find excuses to sit in his lap every time she needed to gauge his reaction to her.

"He's not like most guys, though. He's a little older. More sophisticated. I think it wouldn't be very easy for me to read him like that," Sansa said, hoping Margaery wouldn't guess that he was someone who was with them at the cabin.

"Sansa! Where are you meeting older guys without taking me along?" Margaery was grinning from ear to ear and not looking the least bit offended that Sansa wasn't inviting her along on these hypothetical meetings with older boys.

"But I can see how that would be different then… are you sure you couldn't just ask him?" Margaery questioned, looking slightly more serious.

Sansa’s eyes went wide. "NO!" she blurted. Sansa blushed and quickly added that he absolutely must not know that she wanted to know if he liked her.

"You're going to have to give me a little bit more to go on, then. I can't give proper advice for such a vague situation!" Margaery responded, looking intently at Sansa.

Sansa was sure that it was impossible to blush more than she was already blushing, but she still felt additional warmth rush to her cheeks. She couldn't help glancing at the door for just a second. 

That was all Margaery needed.

"Sansa, are you thinking about someone who's with us at the cabin?" Margaery whispered excitedly. She moved closer to Sansa and her eyes shone with gleeful curiosity.

"No! Of course not. Don't be absurd. I mean, who would it even be? It's just my brothers here. And Renly is gay!" Sansa said quickly. _Too quickly_.

Margaery gave her a calculating look. Sansa swore that she could see the moment when Margaery realised just who Sansa was talking about. Margaery's eyes widened, and then lit up with unholy joy.

"STANNIS?!" she whisper-shouted. Loud enough for Sansa to look at the door anxiously and make desperate shushing noises at Margaery.

"You want to know if Stannis Baratheon likes you?" Margaery whispered in amazement. "I didn't know you had a daddy thing, Sansa!" she added with a wicked smile.

"I _don't_!" Sansa answered, outraged that Margaery would say something like that. Stannis was hardly old enough to be her father.

"If I tell you what happened today you have to swear on your life not to tell anyone -- and that definitely includes Loras and Renly!" Sansa said firmly, abandoning her plan to keep it all a secret now that Margaery had figured it out.

"I swear on my life. This will stay between us," Margaery swore, looking as solemn as possible.

Sansa hesitated, feeling like she might regret this later but she desperately wanted advice, and it was not as if she could ask her mother or Arya for help.

Sansa told Margaery everything that had happened in the jeep, and Margaery listened attentively, only interrupting occasionally to say things like "I knew there was something weird going on with you two!"

Once Sansa had described how Stannis had nearly bowled her over in his effort to escape her presence after the ride in the jeep, she fell silent, and looked hopefully at Margaery. Surely she'd know what Sansa should do.

"I'm sure Stannis just had to go take care of the little problem he had. It's not exactly comfortable to walk around with a giant hard-on, you know," Margaery giggled. 

Sansa, who had been returning to a normal colour, flushed red again. Still, she tentatively joined Margaery in giggling just a little. Men were quite unfortunate to have to show their interest in such an obvious way.

"Let's be serious now," Margaery said and sobered up. "Stannis is what, thirty-two? He's divorced, and he has a daughter who's twelve? Thirteen, maybe? He’s also the brother of your father's best friend. Do you really want to know if he likes you? What if he actually does? Are you really going to do anything about it?" Margaery stared intently at Sansa, as if she were willing her to face these uncomfortable facts. As if Sansa hadn't already considered all of this.

"I've been thinking about it ever since - you know - in the jeep," Sansa said and paused to duck her head in embarrassment. Margaery just smiled and nodded as Sansa studied her hands. "I think that if he's interested, I'm going to give him a chance. He's not bad looking, and he's the most honourable man I know." Sansa couldn't think of a better word to describe Stannis. Even if it was a bit medieval. He was serious and somewhat obsessed with running his branch of Baratheon Industries, but everything she knew of Stannis, from her father and from Shireen, spoke of a honest, straight-laced personality. She couldn't imagine Stannis ever treating a woman the way Joffrey had treated her. Case in point, instead of leering at her and making a move on her after the situation in the jeep, he had literally run away, rather than make her uncomfortable.

"Well. Then I have a plan to get some answers!" Margaery said, an evil gleam in her eye.

Sansa wasn't sure she would approve of any such plan, so she badgered Margaery for the details. However, Margaery was infuriatingly secretive about the plan, and refused to tell her a thing. Sansa went to sleep feeling a bit helpless and annoyed with Margaery, but excited about what the next day might bring. Would Margaery's plan help her get some answers about Stannis' feelings for her?

***

By noon the following day everyone except Stannis was on the ski slopes. Even little Rickon was practising in the gentler slopes with Bran and Jon, who was the most patient teacher out of the lot. Everyone else was zooming down the hills with joyful abandon, enjoying the fresh air and the thrill of the ride.

When Stannis had elected to stay behind, Sansa glanced at Margaery to see if this would ruin her mysterious plan for the day, but Margaery had only smirked and winked at Sansa. Apparently Margaery had guessed that Stannis wouldn't be the type who liked to ski.

“I'll leave you to your attempts to break every bone in your body,” Sansa heard Stannis say to Robert, irritation in every line of his face, when Robert had tried to convince Stannis to join them.

Sansa had only been skiing for thirty minutes when Margaery sidled up to her, whispered "It's for the plan!" and pushed her into a snow drift. Sansa ended up twisting her ankle. She couldn't believe that _that_ was part of Margaery's plan.

"What the hell, Margaery!?" she yelled, before remembering that well brought up young ladies did not curse. Her ankle really hurt, though. She rubbed at it while she glared at her friend resentfully.

Robb and Renly were the only ones within hearing distance when it happened, and they came over, looking concerned.

"What happened?" Robb asked, frowning at Sansa as he and Renly helped her get up.

"Sansa accidentally fell into this snow drift. It looks like she just twisted her ankle a little. She should rest it for today at least. If she stays off it, she might be okay to ski tomorrow or the day after," Margaery chirped brightly. Sansa just gaped at her.

"Stannis is at the cabin, he can look after her for today. I know Sansa wouldn't want to spoil our fun, so we don't have to go back with her." Margaery continued. "I'll just help her down to the cabin. You boys run along now." Margaery started to march Sansa down to the cabin, and waved the two confused men away with a dismissive hand gesture.

"Are you sure, Sansa?" Robb called after them, bemused. Renly looked like he didn't know whether to keep looking concerned or start laughing at Margaery's antics.

It finally dawned on Sansa that Margaery's plan involved her being alone with Stannis in the cabin, so she nodded at Robb and gave him a thumbs up. She didn't think it was ladylike to yell back.

When Sansa was sure they were out of hearing distance from anyone, she demanded answers from Margaery.

"You're going to use your alone time with Stannis to confront him. It's the only way you'll get anywhere with him. He's the blunt, straight-forward type. Trust me. You're going to have to be decisive. Do you think you can do that?" Margaery looked seriously at Sansa while she explained this, and quirked and eyebrow when Sansa's face went pale.

The thought of confronting Stannis Baratheon about a hard-on he had while she was sitting in his lap sounded like a dangerously insane thing to do, but when she considered what Margaery said about Stannis being the blunt type, she knew it was true. She supposed Stannis had that in common with Robert, although Robert tended to soften his bluntness with humour.

"You're right. I'm going to just ask him about it. What's the worst that could happen?" Sansa finally said, trying to put on a brave face.

"The worst thing that could happen is that Stannis refuses to answer your question. If that happens, we'll have to involve Robert in this and get his help to get Stannis drunk. But that's plan B," Margaery said with a laugh. "I really think that Stannis will tell you if you ask him straight out," she added.

They reached the cabin while Sansa was still trying to imagine what a drunk Stannis would look like, and failing miserably.

"Do you think you'll be all right walking on your ankle?" Margaery asked, looking slightly guilty about Sansa's injury.

Sansa's ankle was already feeling less painful, so she estimated that it was only a bit swollen and would be fine by tomorrow. She told Margaery as much, and the pretty brunette looked relieved.

"Great! Good luck getting a date!" Margaery smiled and winked at Sansa, then she turned around and jogged back the way they had come.

Sansa was already slightly red faced due to the cold weather, but Margaery's parting comment made heat rush to her cheeks. The idea of a date with Stannis wasn't entirely unpleasant, even if it was a bit strange. She imagined she'd get dressed up in a beautiful dress, and he'd take her somewhere with amazing food, and they'd be able to get to know each other properly…

She was lost in this pleasant date fantasy when she hobbled through the main area of the cabin, and she almost didn't notice that the sliding glass door, which lead to a patio where the hot tub was situated, was ajar. When something moved outside on the patio, her attention was captured and she noticed that Stannis was actually relaxing in the hot tub. His eyes were closed, so he probably hadn't seen her, but she could definitely see him.

She could see the top of his pectorals, and his arms were out of the water as well, resting on the edge of the tub on either side of him, looking very well defined indeed. She had suspected he was hiding a great body, but it was very gratifying to have it confirmed.

Sansa smiled to herself and decided she would surprise Stannis by joining him in the hot tub. Perhaps being in the tub would have relaxed him enough to talk about the things she wanted to ask him about, and she still remembered Margaery's advice about how it couldn't hurt to flaunt some skin to gauge a man's interest.

Making her way to the room she shared with Margaery as quietly as she could, she felt her heart speed up and butterflies start to flap around in earnest in the pit of her stomach. She had to be quiet because she didn't want to alert Stannis to her presence too soon.

As soon as she was through the door she headed for her luggage and started rummaging around for her swimsuit. Unfortunately she had only brought a very modest, blue one-piece. She eyed it critically and then glanced at Margaery's bag. Suspiciously, Margaery seemed to have placed her emerald green bikini at the very top of the bag. Sansa was pretty sure it hadn't been there last night, so she wondered if Margaery had predicted that Sansa would find Stannis in the hot tub. In any case, Sansa took it as a sign, and grabbed the bikini and changed into it.

When she stepped onto the patio, Stannis opened his eyes and stared at her in confusion. The look was replaced by his usual scowl quite fast, but his eyes never left her figure as she made her way - trying not to limp too much - towards the tub. Neither one of them said a word.

She was still wrapped in a towel, and she knew she would have to work up the courage to hang it up soon. In order to stall for time she asked Stannis whether he minded her joining him. He ignored her question. "What are you doing back so soon?" he asked instead, sounding suspicious and annoyed.

Sansa took a deep breath and unwrapped the towel as she answered.

"I hurt my ankle. I thought I should rest it until tomorrow in the very least. I'd just hurt myself more if I tried to keep skiing. I knew you were here, so I thought I'd just keep you company today. You don't mind, do you?" Sansa had never felt quite this nervous talking to anyone, but she had a feeling that Stannis hadn't noticed how her voice shook slightly. He looked like he was having trouble keeping his eyes off her bikini-clad form. He would stare at her face, and then his eyes would dart downwards for just a moment before stubbornly returning to her eyes.

She decided to give him just a little bit more of a show, and sat down on the edge of the tub with her feet in the water. Then she started busily tying her hair into a pile at the top of her head. She knew that the motion would thrust her chest out, showing it to the best advantage. (Just because she didn't flirt much with boys, didn't mean she didn't know _how_.) She felt safe and confident flirting with Stannis. Safe, because she knew he would never do anything to hurt her, and confident because she was pretty sure there was some attraction there -- judging from his previous reaction to her, at least. She just needed to find out if there was anything more to it.

She watched Stannis surreptitiously while she played with her hair, and noticed his Adam's apple bob up and down.

When she finally got into the tub and submerged herself for the most part, he finally seemed to remember that she'd asked him a question.

"It's your family's cabin. Do what you want," he said abruptly. Then he made a movement as if he wanted to stand up, but before Sansa could object, he grimaced and seemed to decide to stay seated.

"You were here first, if you would prefer me to leave then I don't mind," Sansa said demurely, once it became clear that he intended to stay.

"Don't be absurd," Stannis replied shortly, his usual scowl firmly in place.

They were both silent for a time while Sansa tried to think of a way to broach the subject of what happened in the jeep. As it turned out, she didn't have to.

"Sansa. I owe you an apology for yesterday," Stannis suddenly said, looking like he was being tortured. He had removed his arms from the position they had been in resting on the edge of the tub and put them underwater. Sansa already missed the view.

"Oh?" Sansa prompted, vaguely. She was so relieved that he had brought it up that she couldn't think of anything more intelligent to say, but she was very curious about what he would say next.

"Yes. I believe I – ah – reacted," he winced, took a deep breath and continued, "in an unfortunate way when you were sitting with me in the jeep on the way here." He spoke much faster than he usually did, almost tripping over his words, but Sansa managed to understand.

Sansa had never seen a hint of a blush on Stannis Baratheon's face, but right now she thought she could see two spots of colour, high on his cheeks. She thought it was the most endearing thing she had ever seen.

"I didn't mind," Sansa said, feeling a responding rush of warmth colour her cheeks. "I mean, I know that can sometimes happen..." she paused and tried to figure out whether her words were mortifying him. She couldn't tell because his face seemed to have frozen into a neutral mask. She took a deep breath, reminded herself of Margaery's advice. Be brave. Be blunt.

"... But I admit it made me curious. Was there anything behind it? Or just a physical reaction?" 

She forced herself to ask calmly, and tried to look as dignified as she possibly could. Her heart was beating so hard and so fast that she was sure Stannis would be able to see how it was trying to beat its way out of her ribcage -- if he weren't too much of a gentleman to stare at her breasts for too long at a time, that is.

There was a long silence where Stannis continued to stare at Sansa, his face still a blank slate. She tried not to fidget underneath his gaze, but couldn't resist moving her hand to push a stray lock of hair out of the way, securing it behind her ear.

Finally, he spoke.

"How old are you?" He still sort of looked like he was in pain.

Sansa was startled. Stannis had been to so many of her birthday parties, she just assumed he knew that she turned eighteen a few months ago. Now that she thought of it, he probably hadn't come to her parties for a few years.

"I'm eighteen," she answered simply. She didn't want to embarrass him by making him guess or anything ridiculous or flirtatious like that.

For the briefest of moments he looked relieved, but then the grimace was back.

"Sansa, I really don't think it's appropriate-" he began, but Sansa interrupted him, cutting him off mid-sentence.

"Why don't you let me decide what's appropriate for me. If you're interested in me, I'm perfectly willing to go on a date with you. You're not that much older than me, Stannis." Sansa was amazed at how confident and decisive she sounded. Her heart was still going a mile a minute, and she had to focus in order to remember to breathe. “And I'd quite like to get to know you better,” she added shyly.

Stannis had looked surprised and slightly affronted when she had interrupted him, but his expression shifted into that blank mask again very quickly. _At least he wasn't scowling_ , Sansa thought to herself.

After a long moment he finally spoke. "I'd have to talk to you father," Stannis said slowly. The silence had felt longer than Sansa could have believed, and his reply stunned her. She hadn't truly expected Stannis to want to go on a date with her. She had only said what she said in order to force him to show his hand, one way or another. She had expected him to cop out and say that it had only been a physical reaction, and that he had no interest in a silly eighteen year old girl.

He was watching her face intently, so she tried to hide her surprise. Maybe he was just testing her? Seeing if she were really willing to do this -- willing to let her father know. Maybe he was trying to get _her_ to cop out?

Sansa took a deep breath and moved closer to Stannis in the water. She sat right next to him, letting their shoulders touch. Stannis went very still, but did not move away.

"Before we involve the rest of the family, shouldn't we see if there's any real chemistry between us?" Sansa suggested, giving Stannis what she hoped was a seductive smile. Knowing that he would let her set the pace made her feel much braver than she ever felt with Joffrey. She suddenly really wanted to try kissing Stannis. If there were no sparks when they kissed, she would know immediately that this thing wasn't worth pursuing. It was the best test she could think of.

Stannis looked at her suspiciously, but still did not move away. "What do you have in mind?" he asked, and maybe she was imagining things, but she thought his voice was somehow lower. Huskier. She pressed her thighs together involuntarily in response to his deeper octave.

"Just a kiss," she answered innocently, looking up at him through slightly lowered eyelashes -- a look she had seen Margaery execute flawlessly too often to count. She knew her cheeks were too pink to give her the look of a proper sultry, seductress, but Stannis did not seem to mind. His eyes were fixed on her lips now, and she responded by quickly wetting them, not wanting them to feel too dry if he did end up accepting her challenge.

The moment stretched on, and Sansa was starting to think that Stannis was just going to stare at her blankly for eternity, when he suddenly swallowed – she watched in fascination as his Adam's apple went up and down – and reached for the back of her head with one of his hands. His hand had been in the water, so it felt warm and wet as it tangled itself in her dry hair. He used his hand to gently nudge her face closer to his...

And then they were kissing.

Just pressing their lips together at first, but Sansa instinctively parted her lips slightly after a moment, and Stannis responded by deepening the kiss. He had shaved sometime the day before, so there were bristles all around his mouth that scratched at the sensitive skin around Sansa's lips. The bristles felt a bit strange, but not entirely unpleasant when he moved slowly. He didn't force his tongue down her throat like Joffrey had done either. Instead it was extremely pleasurable, and she felt shock waves of excitement travel through her body from head to toe.

 _Who would have thought Stannis Baratheon would be such a good kisser?_ Sansa wondered.

All too soon, Stannis dropped his hand from her head and moved himself further away than Sansa would have preferred. He looked like he was trying to control his breathing, and not quite succeeding. Sansa felt a dizzying rush of power at the sight.

"I definitely felt some chemistry," Sansa said, smiling at Stannis. She wanted him to know that she was as affected as he was.

He was attempting that blank expression again, but not quite managing it. She had no idea what the expression he was currently sporting was called, but she thought it was definitely a good one.

"Hmm," was his only vocal response. It came out slightly choked, and Sansa's smile widened.

"Do you perhaps require a more thorough kiss just to be absolutely sure? If you're going to talk to my father, you should be sure that it's worth your while..." Sansa tempted, and moved herself closer to Stannis again. Their first kiss had inspired a confidence she had never felt the like of in her life. She felt powerful and sexy, desired and in absolute control of herself. It was a heady feeling, and she wanted more.

When Stannis didn't protest, and had in fact gone back to staring at her lips longingly, she took it as a sign to continue. He had initiated their first kiss, why shouldn't she initiate their next?

With her heart still hammering away in her chest, she placed a hand on each of his shoulders, and pressed her lips to his. When they both started to deepen this kiss at the same time, she felt his hands go to her waist under the water. She wanted to press herself closer to him, so she moved until she was straddling his thighs, but she wasn't fully in his lap this time. She wasn't quite sure if she dared, and she didn't want to risk breaking the spell that seemed to have been cast on Stannis for him to be so compliant.

He broke their kiss to continue trailing kisses down her exposed neck. This time the bristly hairs of his beard felt absolutely delicious against her skin, and her toes curled with pleasure. She took this advance as a sign that he wasn't adverse to the position she had placed them in, and decided to risk pressing their bodies together fully. She slid herself forward and felt his his erection for the second time in twenty four hours, pressing against her much more intimately this time.

She heard Stannis suck in a deep, slightly uneven, breath. It sounded very loud since his mouth had been quite close to one of her ears. He only let her get away with this intimate position for a short moment before he used his grip on her waist to move her off him.

"We can't," he choked out, begging for mercy with his eyes.

Sansa wasn't surprised, although she was disappointed. She would have liked to make out for a bit longer, feeling him pressed up against her like that. She had never felt as turned on in her entire life and the pressure of him against her had felt like an itch was being scratched in the most pleasant way possible.

"I understand," Sansa said, and tried not to pout. Young ladies do not pout like children when they don't get their way.

Stannis seemed almost amused at her response. Although she couldn't be sure, since she had never seen Stannis amused before.

Then the grimace returned.

"I will talk to your father and if he does not object, I would very much like to invite you out to dinner when it is convenient for you." 

He sounded much too formal for someone who was sitting in a hot tub with lips slightly swollen from kissing. _What an interesting man_ , Sansa thought. She was already starting to become very fond of Stannis.

"If my father thinks he is allowed to object, I'll have to give him a piece of my mind," Sansa replied and raised an eyebrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Here](http://sarahtheblack.tumblr.com/post/125626161873/shadowsfan-stephen-dillane-frolicking-naked) are some pictures of thirty-ish Stephen Dillane in a hot tub. You're welcome.


	3. A walk in the woods

Stannis was sitting on his bed, staring straight ahead at his bedroom wall. His eyes were unfocused. If anyone had asked him to describe the painting hanging in front of his eyes, he probably wouldn't have been able to tell them whether it depicted a fruit bowl or a sail boat.

It was actually a painting of a wolf howling at the moon.

The thoughts occupying his mind left no room for admiring art.

He had somehow ended up agreeing to speak to Eddard Stark about taking his teenage daughter out to dinner. He had _kissed_ her. She had _straddled_ him.

What had happened to his life?

Stannis groaned, closed his eyes and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyelids. As soon as he did, his memories of Sansa in that scandalous bikini assaulted him. The images dancing in front of his mind's eye were as vivid as if she were there in the room with him. Stannis dropped his hands and opened his eyes.

Gods, there had been nothing girlish about her as she sat on the edge of the hot tub doing something with her hair. He wasn't quite sure what she had been doing as he had been a bit distracted with trying not to stare at her chest like some depraved fiend. He hadn't been entirely successful. He now knew exactly how perfect the breasts of his fantasises looked. She might just as well have been topless for all that bikini top had covered. Not to mention how the fabric had done nothing to hide the effect the cold air had been having on her. He even knew what her breasts felt like, pressed up against his bare chest -- nothing between their bodies except for those ridiculous little triangles of fabric…

He shook his head in annoyance, trying to steer his thoughts away from that path.

How was he supposed to go to Eddard Stark, and promise that his intentions towards his daughter were entirely honourable? That he wanted to take her out on a respectful date and get to know her as a person?

Stannis sighed and rubbed his forehead. He _did_ want to take Sansa out and get to know her as a person. He didn't quite know how that had happened, but when Sansa had suggested it, he'd been struck by the rightness of the idea.

The trouble was, he also wanted to do a lot of dishonourable, filthy things with Sansa. He was afraid that Eddard would be able to tell, and try to murder him. He was fairly certain that this fear was ridiculous, Eddard wasn't really the violent sort. Still, when he imagined himself in Eddard's shoes and thought of a man, fourteen years her senior, asking to date Shireen, he immediately started grinding his teeth.

Stannis forced himself to unlock his jaw, and sighed. He knew he was being hopelessly old fashioned. Sansa was legally an adult, and she had expressed herself clearly. Wanting to ask her father's permission was completely archaic. At the same time, it was the only way he could think of to clear his conscience about attempting a relationship with Sansa. If she was willing, and her father was made aware, it would be crystal clear that they weren't sneaking around having an illicit affair. He refused to be party to any such situation. He was not Robert, damn it.

“Stannis, would you like some lemonade? I just made some fresh! I took some aside before I added most of the sugar.” Sansa's voice carried through his door, her tone was hopeful and slightly nervous unless he was imagining things.

What had he done to deserve her sweet attentions?

“I'll be out in a minute,” he replied, raising his voice slightly so it would carry.

After their stint in the hot tub, Stannis had made a tactical retreat to the shower in his room. Convinced that if she tried to straddle him again he might do something he would regret.

He'd made the water as cold as he could stand, refusing to succumb to his lust for the second time in two days. He'd been half way through getting dressed when he'd started staring at the wall and trying to think of a way to approach Eddard about Sansa.

Apparently, Sansa wished for more of his company. The smart thing to do what probably to stay in his room until someone came back from the ski slopes. But he did not want to disappoint her. Stannis frowned. Did she already have him wrapped around her little finger? A couple of kisses, and he couldn't stand the thought of rejecting a drink she offered him?

He was in deep trouble.

He was already in his jeans, but he grabbed a shirt and started buttoning it up as he walked towards the main area of the lodge.

Sansa was curled up on the smaller sofa, holding a glass of lemonade and what looked to be a University level text. Economic theory, it looked like. Was she trying to impress him?

There was another glass of lemonade on the table in front of her, and she obviously intended for him to sit down next to her. Stannis paused while he finished buttoning up his shirt. He wasn't entirely sure it was a good idea for them to sit on such a small sofa together.

“What's that you're reading?” he asked, stalling for time and sounding a lot more abrupt than he had meant to sound.

Sansa, who had been staring at him with a slightly glazed over expression for some reason, blinked a few times, looked down at her book and then back up at him.

“It's a textbook.” She hesitated and looked at him in confusion. When he gave her a sardonic look she continued. “I'm starting University after the summer and I'm trying to get familiar with some of the subjects I'll be studying.”

Stannis tried not to wince at the thought that she still hadn't graduated from secondary school. At least her graduation was not far off. Perhaps he should wait until after it had taken place to take her out?

Realising that he'd been looming over her for too long, he decided to throw caution to the winds and sit down next to her. He grabbed the lemonade for something to do, and was pleasantly surprised at the taste. Usually people always added much too much sugar to his lemonade, making it undrinkable. It was thoughtful of Sansa to recall this detail about his preference.

She was watching him with an anxious look on her face, obviously worried that he wouldn't like the drink. He made a point of taking another, much larger, sip after his first one. Sansa smiled at him, at that. She really was remarkably beautiful. He didn't have an artistic bone in his body, but he was relatively certain that her smile could make a painter weep at the knowledge of never being able to capture its beauty.

“Business school, then?” Stannis guessed, trying to ignore the fact that her smile had him waxing poetic in his head.

“Yes. I want to do what mother does. My father always says that he'd be lost without her help with the company's finances,” Sansa said, her smile widening.

The Stark family business was not on the same level as Baratheon Industries, but it was a successful enough company, employing a large percentage of the town of Winterfell. Stannis had always respected how Eddard did his best to keep the company local and protect his employees. He knew it hadn't been easy during the recession, but Eddard had stubbornly resisted the idea of cutting jobs, insisting on lowering his own salary instead, and doing everything possible to keep everyone employed. Stannis wished he'd been able to do the same, but Baratheon Industries were beholden to the shareholders. He'd had to make a lot of hard decisions to keep the profit margin acceptable.

Since Stannis hadn't kept the conversation going, Sansa had gone back to her book. He sipped his lemonade and wondered what Sansa was expecting of him. She didn't seem to be expecting him to do anything.

“How's your ankle?” Stannis asked her uncomfortably. He remembered that she had limped slightly when walking towards the hot tub, earlier. He was suddenly seized by the guilty hope that the injury would prevent her from skiing tomorrow as well. He wouldn't mind another day in her company.

“Not too bad if I don't put too much pressure on it. I can walk, but I'm not sure if I'll be doing much skiing tomorrow,” Sansa answered easily. She didn't seem at all upset at the notion of missing out. “The hot tub is much nicer, anyway,” she added, giving Stannis a playful look.

Stannis, who had been in the middle of finishing the last of his lemonade, nearly turned into a complete cliché by choking on his drink, but managed to avoid it.

“Sansa...” he warned, but trailed off, not quite knowing what he wanted to say. He tried to use his eyes to communicate his thoughts about how he was severely tempted, but that they needed to wait for a more appropriate time.

“More lemonade?” she offered sweetly, changing the subject. Stannis frowned at her, but stood up and headed for the kitchen. He didn't want her to fetch and carry for him with her ankle injured.

“It's in the fridge. The smaller jug is yours,” Sansa informed him when she realised he was going to get it for himself.

Stannis was struck again by her thoughtfulness in making him a separate jug of lemonade. He poured until his glass was half full, and returned to the sofa.

“How did you know how I like it?” he asked, curious to know the answer.

“Oh, just something I overheard Robert say to my mother once.” She looked slightly uncomfortable, and Stannis thought he knew why. He'd heard Robert comment on his preference for sour lemonade before. It was generally a variation of - “Do you know why Stannis always looks like he's been sucking on a lemon? It's because he takes his lemonade completely unsweetened! Ha ha ha.” 

Idiot.

“Ah,” Stannis said knowingly, trying to convey that she need say no more. She looked relieved, so she must have understood.

They passed a few minutes in comfortable silence. Sansa had gone back to flipping through the pages of her book, and Stannis sipped his drink and snuck surreptitious glances at Sansa while she was absorbed. When his glass was empty again, he went and got his laptop. Then he could at least pretend to read something in between stolen looks.

It was the best afternoon Stannis could remember passing in a woman's company. At least since Selyse stopped pretending to tolerate him.

He attempted to work, and revelled in Sansa's presence. She would occasionally ask him questions related to something she was reading, and he would explain to the best of his ability. She hung on to his every word, looking artlessly entranced. This flattered his ego enormously, prompting him to speak for longer than he generally did and in much more detail. He was sure she was genuinely interested in his explanations, since he had a lot of painful experience with a woman who only feigned interest in his words. He knew what that looked like, and Sansa didn't look like that at all.

As the afternoon wore on, he noticed Sansa's grip on her book loosen, and her eyelids start to droop. Before he knew it, she was leaning against his shoulder, fast asleep. Stannis glanced at the clock, and then at the door. He was certain that the Starks and his brothers would be returning to the lodge soon, but he could not for the life of him convince himself to move her.

Sansa made a sound in her sleep that was a cross between a mumble and a moan. Stannis looked at the ceiling and wondered if he was being tested.

If this was a test, then he decided to fail it. He closed his laptop and carefully moved it to the table. Then he gently moved himself and Sansa so that she was resting more comfortably on his chest, with his arms supporting her. She was so warm…

He was careful to stay awake so that he would hear anyone approaching in time to wake her up and move them into innocent, sitting positions.

For the moment he would just enjoy the simple pleasure of holding a beautiful, intelligent young woman. A woman who seemed to be genuinely attracted to him and interested in what he had to say. He felt a peaceful contentment settle over him as he held her and listened to her deep, even breathing.

Stannis suddenly realised that he had now passed hours in Sansa's company without feeling depraved or lecherous even once. He experienced an intense wave of relief. He wasn't turning into Robert after all. He wasn't just lusting after Sansa's body. He was interested in her as a person, too.

Suddenly the conversation he meant to have with Eddard seemed a lot less frightening.

***

“So, how did it go?” Margaery asked, looking as if she were ready to interrogate Sansa at length now that they were finally alone together in their shared room. Sansa knew it was wicked of her, but she had sort of enjoyed watching Margaery attempt to curb her impatient curiosity all through dinner and ‘family time’ as her father called it. Family time was when her father forced everyone to play board games, and spend ‘quality time’ together. Sansa hated it, because Arya would generally find new and exciting ways to torture her, and Robert would drink too many beers and then cheat at all the games. He'd always lose despite this, and usually with very bad grace.

Family time generally ended when Rickon would fall asleep at a table somewhere, or when Sansa started screaming at Arya.

“Stannis is going to talk to my father and ask him permission to take me out on a date,” Sansa revealed, blushing. She still couldn't quite believe how daring she'd been in the hot tub. Maybe it had been the bikini? It had been a little bit like wearing a costume. It hadn't been Sansa Stark acting so... _wanton_. It had been Sansa Tyrell, fearless and confident in her sexuality.

“I knew it!” Margaery exclaimed victoriously, throwing her head back and grinning from ear to ear. “Give me all the details!” she demanded. “And don't think I didn't notice that you borrowed my bikini,” she added, giving Sansa a sly look.

“Oh, was that not okay?” Sansa replied, worried that she'd misunderstood her friend's intentions in leaving the pretty two-piece lying around.

“Don't be stupid, I'm thrilled you wore it! I just want to know exactly what Stannis' face looked like when he saw you in it!” Margaery laughed, reassuring Sansa that she wasn't upset in the least.

Sansa ducked her head, but looked back up quickly, unable to contain her excitement about the afternoon's events. She took a deep breath and started telling Margaery about the conversation she had with Stannis in the hot tub. She described how Stannis had been struggling to look away from her, and how he'd even kissed her. Margaery was a fantastic audience, giggling and jokingly fanning herself at all the appropriate places.

Sansa didn't tell her about the second kiss. That felt too private, somehow.

She continued to talk, describing the cosy afternoon on the sofa, how Stannis had seemed to really like the lemonade she made, and how he'd patiently helped her out with her heavy Economics text.

“... And then I guess I fell asleep, because when he woke me up I was all cuddled up to him, and he had his arms around me. I didn't really get to enjoy it because he was saying that I needed to sit up because you lot were returning,” Sansa sighed, ending her story. She looked at Margaery's face to gauge her reaction.

Margaery was on her stomach on top of her bedspread, leaning on her elbows with her hands supporting her chin. She was smiling wistfully. Sansa thought that must be a good sign.

“I really didn't think Stannis had it in him. You've uncovered a very interesting side of him, Sansa.” Margaery breathed a happy sigh. “Tell me again about how he came out of his room half-dressed,” she added, waggling her eyebrows exaggeratedly.

Sansa threw a pillow at Margaery, knowing that she was being teased. Sansa just hadn't been able to help describing to Margaery how handsome Stannis had looked when he'd come out of his room. Wearing a mostly unbuttoned shirt, with his hair a mess from being roughly towel dried, and his unbelted jeans hanging lower than they usually did. She'd been able to see how the dark hairs that grew all over his torso got denser and thicker below his navel, not to mention the outlines of his well defined abdominal muscles. The memory of it sent a rush of heat through her body.

Of course he'd been shirtless in the hot tub, but he'd been submerged the whole time so she hadn't really seen that much. She had hoped that he would get out before she did so that she would be able to check him out properly, but he'd ended up asking her to get back inside shortly after their second kiss, and she would have felt childish refusing his request.

“Don't tease,” Sansa admonished once Margaery stopped laughing.

“Are you going to stay behind at the lodge again tomorrow?” Margaery asked, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

Sansa didn't answer straight away. She was relatively sure the pain pills she had been taking at regular intervals during the day had taken care of most of the swelling in her ankle. If she was careful she should be able to ski tomorrow. She just wasn't sure if she was as interested in skiing as she was in spending more time with Stannis.

“I don't know,” Sansa hedged. “I think it depends on whether we'll be alone or not. If my mother decides to stay behind too, I doubt I'll be able to spend any time with Stannis,” she continued, frowning at the thought of having her mother around to ruin any chance of more one-on-one time with Stannis.

“I could do what I can to make sure everyone heads for the slopes,” Margaery volunteered, tilting her head to the side and giving Sansa an encouraging smile.

“Thanks, but I doubt you'd be able to convince my mother to go if she's decided to stay,” Sansa said dejectedly.

“I guess we'll just have to let things play out as they will,” Margaery sighed, flopping onto her back dramatically. “Now, tell me about the kiss again!”

Sansa blushed, but obliged her. It was a subject she didn't mind expounding on at all.

The two young women didn't manage to fall asleep until quite late that night. It had taken two irritated visits from Sansa's mother, (“Stop giggling and go to sleep!”) before they settled down.

***

As Sansa had feared, her mother decided to stay behind at the lodge the next day. Nothing Margaery said could tempt Catelyn to head for the slopes, and since Catelyn was staying behind, her father and Robert decided to stay too.

“I'm getting too old for skiing. My muscles are damnably sore!” Robert declared. “How about it Ned, beers in the hot tub today?” he suggested. Sansa tried to keep her face from falling in disappointment. Her chances of getting more hot tub kisses had not been very great, but now they were totally nonexistent.

Sansa was torn. Should she stay too, and attempt to find some way to talk to Stannis in private? Or should she join Margaery and the others? They were all already putting on their outdoor clothes and gathering their equipment.

“How about you, Stannis? Join us for some beers today?” Robert grabbed Stannis and clapped his shoulder cheerfully. Stannis looked as if he were being offered a chance to go to a concentration camp.

“I was thinking of going for a walk, actually,” he replied tersely, trying to pull out of Robert's grip. Sansa's face brightened at this. If Stannis went for a walk, she could join him. Then they'd have plenty of time to talk in private.

“Ah, well! You can join us when you get back,” Robert said, letting Stannis go.

“Would you mind if I joined you, Stannis?” Sansa asked, trying not to sound too eager. “Only I think my ankle is getting better, but I want to see how I go with walking before I attempt to ski,” she added as an explanation, noticing how her brothers were looking astounded that she'd volunteer to spend time with the dour man. Her explanation had the added benefit of putting pressure on Stannis to agree, lest he seem unwilling to aid in Sansa's recovery.

“Fine,” was his clipped response. “I'm leaving in half an hour,” he added and retreated to his room.

Sansa hurried to her own room to get ready, all the possibilities of the walk ahead running through her head. Would she be able to tempt Stannis into a bit more kissing? Might they plan a date? Would Stannis tell her that he liked her?

When Stannis and Sansa left the cabin it was empty save for Sansa's mother, who was curled up on the most comfortable arm chair with a novel and a glass of Sansa's lemonade. Robert and her father were already in the hot tub, and even though it wasn't quite noon yet, they both had open beers. Sansa wondered what kind of state Robert would be in by the evening, but decided that it wasn't her problem.

They walked in silence for a while until they reached the path that would take them on a scenic journey through the woods. Sansa had walked this trail a few times before, and always enjoyed it. It was a quiet respite from her beloved, but irritating siblings.

“You're not limping,” Stannis stated, when they had been in the woods for a little while. He was staring straight ahead, but Sansa was studying his face and she could tell that he wasn't really taking in the sights.

“My ankle is feeling much better,” Sansa replied, willing Stannis to look at her. “I think it's nearly back to normal,” she added when he continued to stare fixedly ahead.

Again they walked in silence for a while. Sansa tried to think of a way to start a more interesting conversation. She wanted to ask Stannis so many things, but she didn't want to just blurt out questions at random. She didn't try to hide that fact that she was spending more time looking at him than at their beautiful surroundings. Sansa didn't mind him knowing that she was interested in looking at him.

Stannis was wearing outdoor gear that looked worn, but well cared for. It was a good quality brand, and fit him well. Unfortunately it was much too padded to give her a proper view of his excellent physique. She pouted and regretted again how she'd been forced to leave the hot tub before he had. She really wanted an unhindered look at how his broad shoulders formed two corners of a triangle that tapered at his waist and pointed towards a very interesting part of his anatomy. Something about the shape of him made her brain empty of coherent thought.

“What?” Stannis asked, wrinkling his forehead, after Sansa had been staring at him, eyes glazed over, for a while.

Sansa blushed. She hadn't realised he would _actually_ notice her looking, since he had been so busy staring straight ahead the last she checked.

“Nothing!” she said, quickly. She then searched for something to say to change the subject. “I liked waking up in your arms yesterday,” she said, blushing to the roots of her hair. She hadn't meant to blurt it out like that, but she hadn't been able to think of anything else.

Stannis looked away from her quickly, going back to staring straight ahead. It might be that it was just the cold air and the exertion of the walk, but Sansa thought she could see those two spots of colour in his cheeks again.

“I – You – “ Stannis began, frowned and then started again. “You looked comfortable. I didn't wish to wake you,” he said. Sansa had been studying him closely for the past two days, and she was starting to be able to recognise the minute changes in his expression that he sometimes betrayed. He also seemed to be a little less guarded when he was alone with her. Right now she was relatively certain that he was feeling uncomfortable, and possibly a little guilty.

“It was nice,” she said, smiling up at him. Trying to convey with her eyes that she would love for him to hold her in his arms again.

Stannis seemed to relax his shoulders a little at that.

Suddenly Sansa's ankle decided to twinge with pain. They'd been walking for a while, and she had overestimated how healed it was. Sansa let out an involuntary sound of pain, and paused.

“What is it?” Stannis stopped as well and he definitely looked concerned, Sansa decided.

“Just my ankle. I guess it's not completely back to normal after all,” Sansa admitted apologetically.

“There's a fallen tree just a little way off, we can sit down there,” Stannis suggested. Sansa was amazed at how considerate he was being. A few days ago she would never have expected it of him. First of all, she never would have gone on a walk with him, but if she had, she would have expected him to sigh in annoyance and walk off without her or something.

Sansa limped over to the tree, and sat down. She was glad of her protective and waterproof clothing, otherwise she would have been reluctant to sit down on the snow-covered bark.

Stannis surprised her again by sitting down next to her. She had half expected him to pace around in agitation. She really loved this patient, caring side of him.

“I know it's cold, but why don't you let me look at your ankle?” he suggested after they had rested in companionable silence for a little while.

“Oh,” Sansa was slightly surprised, but not adverse to the idea. “All right, then,” she said by way of agreement. The thought of Stannis examining her ankle wasn't exactly sexy, but she liked that he wanted to help.

She made to bend down and undo the laces of her hiking boot, but Stannis stopped her. He knelt in front of her and unlaced the boot himself. Sansa thought this was very gentlemanly of him and the butterflies that hadn't completely gone away since the ride in the jeep fluttered happily in the pit of her stomach.

Once he had the boot and her socks off, he rolled up her thermal leggings and the rest of her layers. His touch was gentle, and his hands were a warm contrast to the cold air. Despite the touch being completely innocent, and involving a completely unerotic part of her body, it sent shivers through her.

Stannis examined her ankle intently, a deep ridge appearing between his eyebrows. He turned her ankle this way and that, as far as it would go until Sansa let out a little gasp of pain.

“Sansa, you really shouldn't be walking with your ankle like this. It looks like it's swelling up again.” Stannis gave his verdict seriously, still staring at her ankle, rather than looking at her face.

“Oh,” was her intelligent reply. “What do you suggest I do?” she added, feeling a bit foolish. She had only wanted to spend time with Stannis. Why did her ankle have to act up?

“I think we should turn back the way we came. If we continue forward it will be more than an hour before we reach the end of the trail.” Stannis frowned, but didn't seem particularly upset. Sansa hoped he wasn't very annoyed with her for ruining his walk.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be a nuisance,” she apologised, looking down at the ground. “I just really like spending time with you,” she quickly added, trying to explain her actions.

Stannis looked slightly surprised, but maybe a little gratified too? Sansa wasn't sure. She hoped she was right. She had noticed that he'd had a similar look on his face yesterday when she'd listened to his explanations regarding economic theory. 

“It's fine. I'm not really that interested in walking. I just didn't want to spend the day watching my brother drink himself into a stupor in the hot tub,” Stannis admitted, giving her a sardonic little quirk of his lips.

Sansa's heart beat faster at that. He had confided in her _and_ smiled at her.

“Well, we could stay here for a little while longer?” Sansa suggested timidly. Stannis had finished putting her socks and her hiking boot back on, and was sitting next to her again. She gazed at him through slightly lowered lashes, hoping he would agree.

“It would perhaps be wise to allow your ankle a few more minutes of rest, yes,” Stannis said, clearing his throat and looking anywhere except at Sansa.

Sansa smiled and moved closer to Stannis until their thighs were touching. Perhaps it was time to be daring again? She wanted to feel his arms around her once more.

“I'm a little cold,” she said by explanation, when he stopped avoiding her eyes to look at her questioningly. She made sure to express her true intentions by giving him a smile and an encouraging look. He stared at her with concern over her alleged coldness for a short moment before realising that she was giving him an excuse to hold her, if he wanted to. She thought he looked almost at war with himself for a few seconds before he finally huffed out a loud breath that could have been an amused sound - she wasn't quite sure - and pulled her close by snaking his hand around her waist.

Sansa let a contented sigh escape her lips, and leant her head against him, nestling her face against his neck.

To Sansa it was a perfect moment. She looked up at Stannis, wishing to ascertain whether he was showing any of the same contentment on his face that she was feeling. Apparently, he had already been looking down at her, because their eyes met as soon as she looked up. The intensity in his gaze caused Sansa's heart to immediately start beating faster. She knew he was going to kiss her again. Sansa's eyelids fluttered closed and she parted her lips slightly in invitation. She was not disappointed.

There was nothing hesitant about this kiss. Stannis explored her thoroughly with his lips and tongue, tangling his free hand in her hair and hold her head in place. He must have shaved his beard that morning, because now his skin was silky smooth, and it made for a completely new experience. She wasn't sure whether she preferred silky or scruffy, but she was delighted to learn all the different sensations that came with kissing Stannis. 

His kiss was insistent, almost aggressive, and it was causing heat to rush to certain places in a way she had only rarely experienced. She wanted him to keep going forever. She wanted him to kiss her all over. But mostly she very much wanted to press something very firmly between her thighs.

Sansa was responding enthusiastically to Stannis, and couldn't help the moan that escaped when he raked his fingernails across her scalp. It sent a wave of pleasure down her spine, adding to the sensations that were already accosting her. As soon as she moaned Stannis suddenly broke their kiss, moving his head back. They were sitting side by side, their upper bodies twisted to face each other. Stannis was still holding on to her waist quite firmly, and his other hand was still tangled in her hair.

He was breathing fast, and his short and shallow breaths caused little puffs of vapour to disappear into the air around them. She knew her breathing was the same, and would have been glad at the chance to catch her breath if it weren't for the fact that the current lack of kissing was the worst thing to have ever happened in her life. She let out a little whimper of protest to convey this to him, and tried to move her lips closer to his again.

“We should head back now,” Stannis said, using his hands to still her. He had that pained look on his face again, the one she had come to believe meant that he was trying to keep from continuing some very pleasant activities.

“But it's so nice out here,” Sansa wheedled, pleading for more with her eyes. She felt his grip on her loosen, and used the opportunity to kiss him again. She was pleasantly surprised when he didn't fight her, and allowed her to do as she wished. She was setting the pace this time, and the kiss was less aggressive, but she was having fun experimenting with gently biting and sucking at his lower lip and trying to get him to return the favour.

“Sansa,” he groaned and moved his face to the side -- but only after letting the kiss go on for a little longer than was probably advisable. Sansa took the opportunity to pepper his cheek and exposed ear with little kisses. She saw him squeeze his eyes tightly shut and then open them again.

He took a deep steadying breath and abruptly stood up.

“We really should head back,” he said, much more decisively than last time. Clearly he would brook no argument, but Sansa was pleased to hear that he sounded out of breath, and very much affected by their activities.

“Of course, Stannis,” Sansa said demurely, and smiled at him as sweetly as she knew how. She liked how sexy her breathless voice sounded, and decided it was a very nice side effect of being kissed senseless. From the look on his face, Stannis also quite liked the way she had said his name just then. She made a mental note of it to herself.

Sansa got up and attempted to put weight on her weak ankle. It hurt, but she thought she would probably be able to make it back to the cabin. A mischievous idea occurred to her. _Why walk unsupported?_

“Would you mind if I lean on you a little?” Sansa asked, briefly screwing her face into a pained expression, and then giving him a hopeful look.

Stannis looked at her slightly suspiciously, but jerked his head in lieu of consent.

Sansa exaggerated her limp a little as she came to his side, and thoroughly enjoyed the sensation of his arm around her as she clung to him for support. They started to slowly make their way back to the lodge in this way, and Sansa noticed how Stannis held her much more closely than he technically needed to in order to assist her. She smiled to herself. Perhaps he was enjoying this just as much as she was?


	4. Chocolate

Stannis was definitely not hiding in his room. He was reading an important report, and needed peace and quiet. He was also not thinking about how sweet Sansa's kisses had been in the woods, and how much he had wished to take her to a place where they could be alone. Perhaps in front of a fire. With no clothes on.

He groaned and got up from his seat in order to pace the length of his room and back.

His vague plan of waiting until Sansa's graduation to take her out was starting to seem terribly unappealing. Waiting a single day seemed unappealing. He was foolishly close to marching out to the hot tub, where Eddard and Robert were surely turning into prunes, and declaring to Eddard that he would be dating his daughter and there was nothing he could do to stop him.

No. He would have to be patient. It was not as if he would be able to get Sansa to his bed after the first date, anyway. She was a lady, and he would treat her as such. And what had happened to wanting to get to know her as a person, anyway?

Stannis rubbed his face as he paced in agitation.

He felt like two different men. One was of a mind to drag Sansa to his bed at once and ravish her until she begged for mercy. The other wanted to sit with her on the sofa as they had done yesterday afternoon, talking to her and getting to know her. Hearing her thoughts and receiving her attention.

He recalled the first month of his whirlwind romance with Selyse, and thought that he had felt a little like this then.

Stannis had been twenty years old and close to finishing business school. He was already in training at Baratheon Industries in his spare time, and thought himself above the base behaviour he had watched his older brother exhibit since he'd been old enough to chase after girls.

Selyse had been the first woman to show an interest in him. At least in a way that he had been able to understand and notice. She had approached him at one society event or another, Stannis had long since forgot the details, and she had artfully convinced him that she thought he was the most interesting man in the world. Looking back, he could see how she had played him like a harp. Stroking his ego in just the right way, and suggesting they meet up again soon so that he could tell her more _fascinating_ things.

Somehow they had ended up married just a few months later. After the wedding her mask had started to slip. Suddenly his touch did nothing for her. His presence was unnecessary. All she wanted was a credit card linked to their joint account.

Still, he hadn't really faced the truth of her indifference to him until after Shireen was born. When their arguments about their living arrangements ended up being their only communication, he finally realised that all she wanted from him was a mansion and a life where she didn't have to lift a finger. It had infuriated him to know how he had been fooled, though he had no one to blame but himself.

He'd sworn off women after that, and whenever he was approached by a pretty woman he trained himself to see her motivations for what they really were. In any case, he stayed married to Selyse out of obligation to Shireen, so he did not have to fend off too many advances. He stopped trying to share a bed with Selyse and left her to her own devices. He kept busy with work and convinced himself he didn't really need love in his life. It only lead to trouble -- he need only observe Robert to see that.

Sometimes he would look at Eddard and Catelyn and feel a stab of jealousy. Their relationship seemed to be built on mutual trust and respect. They treated each other with kindness, and still there was passion in their eyes when they looked at each other. Stannis wondered if theirs was a love that only came along rarely, and only for certain, Chosen, people. Certainly he did not see the like very often.

It hadn't really come as a surprise to him when Selyse had filed for divorce. He had never succumbed to her wish for a large house and a battalion of servants, mostly due to how _wasteful_ it was, but perhaps also a little bit out of petty vindictiveness. When Shireen was old enough to be sent to boarding school, Selyse had washed her hands of her little family and absconded with some French aristocrat.

Stannis wouldn't have cared much, as she had signed a pre-nuptial agreement before their wedding - Robert's doing, the man was occasionally not completely worthless – and any love he had felt towards her had vanished soon after Shireen was born, but Shireen didn't deserve to be treated like garbage, tossed to the curb when Selyse couldn't be bothered with her anymore. He started to grind his teeth at the very thought of Selyse’s treatment of Shireen.

Stannis had never been the most attentive father, but he had done his best to make sure Shireen knew that he cared for her, and that he would see to her happiness. He hoped he had succeeded. Shireen always seemed happy enough, in her quiet way. She took after him, which was a relief. He was not sure how he would have handled a conniving little copy of Selyse.

In any case, even those first few months with Selyse weren't quite like what he was feeling with Sansa.

For one thing, he was certain that Sansa's interest in him was genuine. Even if it seemed to have come out of nowhere. There was something so guileless in the way she pursued his touch.

Even her little attempts at pulling the wool over his eyes were all done with a figurative nudge and a wink, placing them on the same side as co-conspirators. As when she had exaggerated the pain in her ankle so that he would support her on the way back to the lodge, or when she had been so ‘cold’ that he'd been obliged to hold her close when they were sitting on that tree. 

Stannis smiled to himself at the recollection. He really hadn't minded her transparent attempts at deviousness. They seemed to be a natural sort of flirtation.

The way she eagerly accepted his kisses and sought to kiss him in turn was another thing that suggested her genuine attraction. He could tell she wasn't very experienced, but her sincerity and enthusiasm more than made up for it. He much preferred a little inexperience to the studied seduction he had experienced at the hands of Selyse.

If only she weren't quite so young!

The impending conversation with Eddard made cold sweat start to run down the back of his neck. He really had no idea what he would say to the man. He felt slightly less intimidated now that he was secure in the knowledge that he was interested in Sansa for more than just her body, but it was still going to be a challenge.

Perhaps he should join the two men in the hot tub and try to test the waters a little? Steer the conversation towards Sansa and hear Eddard's thoughts on her? It might help him prepare a suitably convincing speech for when he worked up the courage to talk to him about her.

It couldn't hurt. Even if he was still having trouble meeting Eddard’s eyes.

Stannis quickly changed into his swim trunks, grabbed a towel and headed towards the patio. He resolutely kept his thoughts from straying to his previous excursion in the hot tub. It would not do to be distracted.

“Stannis!” Robert greeted him with the good nature of a pleasantly drunk man.

The warm water felt wonderful after the cold outing to the woods, and Stannis allowed himself a moment to bask in the comfort of it before he answered his brother and acknowledged Eddard.

“Robert. Eddard.” He nodded to them in turn.

“That wasn't a very long walk,” Eddard commented and raised an eyebrow at Stannis. He looked to be on his second beer, so it was probably less than forty-five minutes since Stannis and Sansa had left.

“Sansa's ankle was bothering her, so we turned back,” Stannis answered Eddard's implied question. Eddard nodded at this, looking as if his suspicions had been confirmed.

“I hope she wasn't an inconvenience to you,” Eddard said apologetically.

“Not at all. She's an engaging girl,” Stannis replied sincerely, glad that the conversation was already heading in the direction he wished it to.

“Yes, she's growing up to be a gorgeous little thing!” Robert decided to interject before laughing loudly. Stannis gritted his teeth. Could his brother not go five minutes without acting like an idiot?

Eddard did not seem bothered by Robert's comment, so Stannis decided to press on.

“She told me that she'll be starting University in a few months,” he prompted.

“Yes, she'll be moving to the city. I can't believe my little girl is all grown up,” Eddard sighed, looking quite sentimental. Stannis winced, it didn't really help him to hear Eddard refer to Sansa as his little girl.

“If Sansa is a little girl, I'm a a cupcake!” Robert declared, letting out another booming laugh.

This did not make Stannis feel any better.

Eddard laughed with Robert and shrugged. “I suppose I shouldn't think of her as a little girl anymore.” He smiled sadly. “But I think she'll always be my little girl, no matter how grown up she gets.” Eddard looked at Stannis. “You have a daughter of your own, Stannis. Surely you know what I mean?”

Stannis grimaced. Of course he knew what Eddard meant. It just didn't really suit his purposes.

“Yes, of course,” Stannis confirmed, “but what do you think you'll do when she brings some young man back with her from University?” Stannis asked, aiming for a tone of innocent curiosity with a hint of advice seeking. He'd have to deal with the same situation one day, after all.

“I'll have to respect her choice, of course,” Eddard said immediately. “A parent's role is to raise their child to make responsible choices for themselves. Not to make choices for them,” he added, sounding as if he were quoting a book. If it had been anyone but Eddard, Stannis would have thought he sounded hopelessly pretentious.

“Come now, Ned! Sometimes a girl can use a bit of guidance. What if she brings someone like my thrice-cursed, ex-son Joffrey home?” Robert took a large swig of what looked to be his third or fourth beer.

“I admit I'd do anything to spare her the pain of a bad relationship, but it simply isn't my place. If she comes to me for advice I'll give it, but I'm relatively sure that if I try to tell her what not to do it might simply cause her to rebel and do it anyway.” Eddard looked saddened at the idea of Sansa being hurt, but Stannis had heard enough to realise that Eddard's morals would prevent him from standing in Sansa's way when it came to choosing a romantic partner.

He'd been fairly certain that Eddard wouldn't be the type to lock his daughter in an ivory tower to protect her from old leches like himself, but it was good to have confirmation that if Sansa chose him of her own free will, he was already halfway to parental approval.

Stannis decided that he'd heard enough, and he'd also reached his limit when it came to tolerating Robert in the state that he was in.

After a few minutes had passed, and the conversation had turned to plans for the summer holidays, Stannis took his leave.

He dried himself as best he could and then slung his towel over his shoulder and headed for his room. In the hallway just before he reached his door, Sansa appeared from out of her room, absorbed in a book and headed straight towards him. Stannis came to a halt, thinking he would let her pass before he continued down the narrow hallway but Sansa didn't seem to have noticed him and ended up walking straight into his chest, which was of course very unfortunate, and not at all what he had hoped would happen.

Sansa started to apologise as she looked up to see who she had walked into.

“Oh, I'm sor– Stannis!” she exclaimed, sounding pleased. Her eyes looked him over, and he was gratified to notice that she started to blush.

“I was just – I mean – Hello,” Sansa stammered, and she seemed to find his abdomen to be very fascinating, as her eyes kept returning to stare at the general area around his navel.

Selyse had said many flattering things about his physique when she was still pretending to be interested in him, but nothing she said had flattered him quite as much as Sansa's blushing admiration.

He knew he would need to cut this conversation short before he started to respond to her heated gaze in an obvious way.

“Hello,” he answered her seriously. But hopefully with a hint of humour. He was very out of practise when it came humour. “I'm just heading for a shower.” He added, and started to move past her.

“Hello. Yes,” Sansa repeated, looking slightly dazed, but moving to let him pass. She was still standing in the hallway where he left her when he closed the door behind him. She'd been looking at him for as long as she could.

If she kept this behaviour up, he was going to end up with a massively inflated ego.

Well. At least his ego would then match his other massively inflated things. Stannis sighed and headed for the shower. Perhaps he'd allow himself hot water this time. Images of Sansa were already assaulting him whenever he closed his eyes. Memories of her in that bikini kept popping up, and especially the memory of her straddling him and kissing him. The kisses they had shared in the woods were still fresh in his mind as well, and he could almost feel her lips on his skin.

When he stepped under the spray of water he was already painfully hard. He knew he wouldn't last long as he had denied himself release the day before. Stroking himself hadn't felt this satisfying since he was a teenager, just discovering the pleasure. 

He fantasised about Sansa sneaking into his room and stealing into his bed, wearing scraps of black lace and nothing else. She'd wait for him there, and when he would discover her she would look at him like she had looked at him in the hallway just then. And she'd say his name like she had in the woods, in that breathless sort of way.

 _“Stannis, I want you,”_ she'd say and lean towards him, giving him a nice view of her cleavage. Then he would kiss her all over, paying special attention to her breasts of course, and she would moan like she did when he had kissed her in the woods.

Stannis was surprised and almost disappointed when he suddenly came as he was recalling the way she had moaned into their kiss. His fantasy had only been getting started.

He frowned and huffed out an annoyed breath. Then he shook his head at himself and started washing his hair.

***

Sansa blinked several times and resisted the urge to pinch herself. Had she just literally walked into a practically naked Stannis Baratheon?

How many times had she said ‘Hello’? She blushed in embarrassment at her behaviour. It hadn't been her fault, though! She hadn't been prepared to see shirtless Stannis standing in front of her all of a sudden. _He really was so fit_ , she thought, remembering the clearly defined abs she had just been staring at. Had he noticed her staring? He must have.

Sansa used her free hand to cover her mouth in mortification.

At least now she had got her wish, to see Stannis in his swimwear. A small giggle escaped her. She didn't know whether it was amusement or a touch of hysteria.

What had she been doing in the hallway, anyway?

She looked down at her occupied hand, noticing the book she held loosely. Of course, she had been about to join her mother in reading. She should probably do that. Or maybe she should return to her room and fantasise about what Stannis looked like completely naked?

He had the most fascinating trail of hair that started around his navel and got darker and thicker as it disappeared into his swimmers. Judging by what she'd felt pressed up against her in the jeep and in the hot tub, he was definitely hiding something decently sized and interesting in there. Definitely bigger than Joffrey's.

Before she could make a decision about whether to join her mother or return to her room, Margaery came bustling down the hallway towards her.

“Your sister is a hellion, did you know?” Margaery grumbled, exasperation in her tone.

“It's only been an hour, but apparently she's bored with skiing and has teamed up with Bran to try to hit the rest of us with snowballs!” Margaery threw her arms up and rolled her eyes.

“There's only so many times I will tolerate being hit. And the last snowball made me lose balance and nearly break my leg!” Margaery finally complained, as she entered their bedroom. Sansa trailed after her, an amused smile playing on her lips. Arya's antics were always funnier when she herself wasn't the target.

“So I'm going in the hot tub. Will you join me?” Margaery was already tearing her skiing gear off with gusto.

“I think Dad and Robert are still in there,” Sansa hesitated, unsure of whether she wanted to be in the tub with a drunk Robert. She knew he'd never do anything inappropriate, but he could say some really embarrassing things sometimes.

“So what, we'll kick them out if they annoy us,” Margaery said lightly. She was struggling to tie the bikini on, but Sansa had managed it by herself yesterday, so she didn't bother to offer help.

“I suppose the hot tub sounds all right.” Sansa went towards her own luggage, and found her blue one-piece easily. She started to change into it while Margaery began to pile her thick brown hair up onto her head.

Once they were both ready and wrapped in towels, they left their room and headed to the patio. The hot tub was thankfully empty when they got to it, although beer cans littered the snow around it.

“Beer is so disgusting.” Margaery scrunched up her nose in distaste. Sansa nodded her agreement.

Once they were submerged, Margaery asked Sansa how her walk with Stannis had gone. Sansa looked at the sliding glass door to see whether it was open or closed. Apparently Margaery had thought to close it behind them so it would be harder for anyone in the main area of the lodge to overhear their conversation.

Suitably secure in the knowledge that they would not be overheard, Sansa began to tell Margaery the whole story, adding the hallway incident to the story at the end. She didn't go into too much detail about the kisses, since she felt it was private, but spent longer than strictly necessary waxing poetic about Stannis' abs.

“You are getting serious about him!” Margaery stared at Sansa in amazement.

“I wasn't sure if I liked him at first, but spending time with him has made me realise how attractive he his. His grumpy routine is mostly an act, I think,” Sansa speculated, voicing her thoughts on the matter for the first time.

“That's it. When we get back to civilisation, I am taking you shopping for proper underwear,” Margaery giggled.

“Okay, you're jumping ahead just a little there!” Sansa splashed water at Margaery's face in response to her teasing, but privately thought that underwear shopping wasn't a terrible idea. If Stannis invited her to his apartment after a few dates, she wouldn't want to be caught in white cotton.

Once the topic of Sansa and Stannis was exhausted, the went on to discuss their plans for the rest of the school year. Margaery was in the planning committee for the graduating class gala evening, and she was trying to decide what to wear and who to bring as her date.

“I'm not sure any of the idiots at the school are worthy of my company,” she ended up saying, as she theatrically pretended to buff her fingernails and examine the result. “Honestly, the two of us should just go together,” she suggested, sounding almost halfway serious. “Then we could just steal dances from any boy that strikes our fancy, and watch their dates fume at our audacity!” she cackled happily, clearly warming up to her idea.

“I don't know if I'll even go.” Sansa shook her head slowly, looking off towards the woods.

“Of course you have to go! I'm planning the event. It's going to be amazing,” Margaery insisted. “You'll regret it when you're older if you don't go,” she added with certainty.

“Yes, maybe,” Sansa said, unconvinced. She really wasn't sure if the gala would be a worthwhile way to spend an evening. Given the choice, she would rather spend an evening with Stannis than go to a stupid gala. But if it was really so important to Margaery she might go to please her.

Soon after, when their toes had turned into raisins, they ran out of the tub, shrieking at the cold, and didn't stop until they had made it all the way back to their room. Once there, Margaery decided they should give each other mani-pedis, and thus they were occupied for the rest of the afternoon.

Once the skiers returned it was time to prepare dinner, and the evening was spent in much the same way as the preceding one. Sansa did not get much of a chance to speak with Stannis, but their eyes met a few times from across the main room of the lodge. These shared looks never failed to start butterflies dancing in her belly. 

Late in the evening she thought Jon might have noticed her exchange one of these heated looks with Stannis, but she wasn't certain. It had caused her heart to start pounding, and she hadn't dared to look at Stannis again for the rest of the night. Perhaps it was her imagination, but she thought she sometimes felt Stannis' gaze on her. It raised the hairs on the back of her neck, and she occasionally had to suppress a pleasurable shudder.

***

Sansa woke up the following day to the smell of chocolate wafting through the air. Easter Sunday was one of her favourite holidays, not really for the sake of the chocolate, but for the lemon cakes that her mother would always serve for dessert at dinner time. They were Sansa's absolute favourite, and her mother only made them for special occasions.

Margaery and Sansa got dressed in a hurry, attracted by the delicious smell that seemed to stem from the main room of the lodge.

It turned out that Robert had brought an entire suitcase of chocolate, and Catelyn had taken it upon herself to melt some of it into hot chocolate at the stove in the kitchen which was where the tempting scent was coming from.

“Happy Easter!” Robert shouted merrily, throwing chocolate for Sansa and Margaery to catch, and with his beard and large rounded belly, Sansa felt like he was combining holidays -- the Father Christmas of Easter.

Sansa looked around the room, but Stannis was nowhere to be seen. Before she could check herself, she had voiced her thoughts out loud. “Where's Stannis?” 

She blushed when she realised that normally she never would have bothered to ask, and that she needed to be more careful about what she said. She didn't want anyone to discover that she was attracted to Stannis yet.

“Oh, he's hiding in his room I expect. He's not much for chocolate. He prefers most things in life unsweetened, good old lemon face,” Robert chuckled and shook his head.

Catelyn, who had just entered the room with a couple of cups of hot chocolate, answered Robert before Sansa had a chance to.

“I remembered how Stannis doesn't like most chocolate, so I brought some very dark Belgian pieces for him. They're in the kitchen. Sansa, why don't you take them to him?” Catelyn suggested as she handed the cups of hot chocolate to Arya and Bran.

Glad of an excuse to see Stannis in his room, Sansa was quick to comply. She wasn't surprised that Stannis would prefer his chocolate more on the bitter side, but she thought Robert was unkind to always mock him for his preferences. Sansa wasn't a picky eater, but she remembered how Robb had been when they were growing up, and knew that some people just had a very selective palate.

She knocked three times on the door that lead to Stannis' room. “Stannis? Are you in there?” she called, clutching the box of chocolates nervously.

Stannis did not reply. Instead the door suddenly swung open. Sansa was disappointed to see that Stannis was fully dressed. He was frowning at her, obviously wondering why she was bothering him.

“Mum, I mean, my mother thought you might like these. Since it is Easter Sunday and all.” Sansa held the box out, hoping that Stannis would believe that she was telling the truth. What if he thought the chocolates were from her, and that she just didn't want to admit it?

No, that was stupid. He already knew that she liked him. He'd know that if she wanted to give him chocolates, she'd just give them to him without making up an excuse.

Stannis had been examining the box, but he looked at Sansa with something that approached a soft expression. As soft as she thought his face might know how to get, at least.

“These are tolerable. Give your mother my thanks.”

“I will.” Sansa smiled happily. “Are you going to join us?” she added, sounded a lot more hopeful than she had intended. She had been aiming for curious nonchalance.

“Ah, no. I have some reports I still need to read.” Stannis frowned, seemingly regretful at having to disappoint her. Sansa was a little disappointed, but understood that Stannis did have a company to run. However, she wasn't quite ready to end the conversation, so she looked around for something to comment on.

“You're on your computer a lot, aren't you?”

Stannis nodded curtly. He did not seem to look too impatient, so Sansa pressed on.

“Do you think I could have your email address?” Sansa asked, in a stroke of inspiration. She had been worrying about how to keep this – whatever they had – going, once they returned to real life. Of course the Internet provided the perfect solution.

Stannis looked surprised, but pleasantly so. “I don't see why not.” He turned around, placed the box of chocolates on his desk, and fetched his wallet from a coat that had been draped over the back of his desk chair. From inside the wallet he produced a business card. He grabbed a pen and scrawled something on it. Then he presented it to her, a little stiffly.

“Thank you! Now we can keep in touch.” She smiled at him and met his eyes confidently before tucking the card into her back pocket for safe keeping.

Sansa wanted Stannis to know that she was interested in more than just a few kisses at this lodge and that she wasn't just throwing herself at him because he was the only man who was available to her while they were away from civilisation.

“Yes, that would be – Yes.” Stannis cleared his throat. He gestured vaguely at his desk. “Chocolate?”

Sansa was delighted that he didn't seem to be in a hurry to send her away, so she stepped into the room. “Yes, please!” she cheerfully accepted.

Sansa leaned the door behind her until it was mostly shut, but left it open a crack. She noticed that Stannis swallowed noticeably at that. He grabbed the box of chocolates and opened it a little clumsily. Then he walked back over to her and thrust the box at her. He looked so awkward, but his scowl was nowhere to be seen. She thought he was probably pleased, but unsure of how to show it. Sansa wanted to throw the box away and pull him in for a kiss.

Somehow she restrained herself and picked a piece of chocolate from the box instead. She wasted no time in popping it into her mouth, and almost had a food orgasm right then and there. She hadn't been prepared for such a decadent confection. She closed her eyes and moaned in pleasure.

“Gods, Stannis!” she gasped when she had swallowed the last of her piece. “This is best chocolate I've ever had in my life.” She opened her eyes and looked at Stannis in delight.

Stannis looked as if he had frozen in place. He was still holding the box out, but a bit limply. His eyes were slightly glazed over, and focused on her lips.

“Don't you want to taste it?” Sansa asked, innocently. Knowing that if she played her cards right, he might be convinced to kiss her again, though she hadn't expected her question to cause quite the reaction it did.

Stannis made a noise that put Sansa in mind of a growl. He dropped the box of chocolates to the floor carelessly, and with one long step he had pushed her back against the door, causing it to click shut. He placed his hands on each side of her face and neck, using his thumbs to push stray strands of hair back behind her ears. Sansa was drawing deep, shuddering breaths as warm blood rushed to her face, neck and chest. Her eyelids grew heavy and her lips parted in anticipation. Stannis looked into her eyes for what seemed an eternity. He had such a heated and desperate look, it made Sansa's knees weaken.

When Stannis' mouth finally descended on hers, she felt like he was trying to devour her. She gave as good as she got, and was soon moaning with an entirely different sort of pleasure than from before. Stannis was pressing his entire body to hers, and it felt delicious to be pinned in place by his hard, unforgiving form. Sansa pressed her thighs together to try to relieve the growing need she was feeling, and clung to Stannis' back with both hands, tugging at his shirt for something to hold onto.

As if he knew what she needed, Stannis pushed one of his knees in between Sansa's, and pressed his thigh in between hers. He dropped one hand to her thigh, and pulled it up and forward, so that he had better access. She eagerly pressed herself into his thigh, gasping into his mouth when he responded by grinding it forward in return. Sansa could tell that Stannis was just as affected as she, and the feel of his insistent hardness intensified her desire for him even more. 

Stannis had moved his other hand down to her ribcage, and his thumb was moving and back and forth, stroking the sensitive area just under her breast. Sansa moaned again at the sensation, feeling almost certain that if Stannis weren't holding her up she would sink down to the floor. Her legs felt completely insubstantial. She reached her hands up to stroke his hair and neck.

“Sansa, would you like some hot chocolate?” Catelyn's voice carried through the door all the way from the main area of the lodge.

The sound caused the spell to break. Stannis sprang away from Sansa as if he had burnt himself. That guilty grimace was back on his face, but Sansa hardly noticed. She was too busy admiring how red and swollen his lips looked, and how mussed his hair was. His shirt even looked like it had been rumpled a little. In short, he looked thoroughly kissed.

She knew she must look the same. As it was, she was leaning back on the door for support, breathing heavily.

She turned towards the door and called out once she thought her voice might be strong enough. “Later, Mum!”

She couldn't mingle with the others just yet. She'd have to make herself a little more presentable first. She was fairly certain that most of the people in the lodge would recognise what a girl looked like, post make-out session.

“I guess I should go,” Sansa sighed. She really didn't want to, but Stannis looked like he was about to go on a guilt trip, and she didn't want him to have to ask her to leave.

She took a deep breath, placed her hand on the doorknob, and turned around to glance at Stannis.

“I really hope we get to go on that date soon.” She smiled and hoped he could see the excitement and the desire she was feeling.

With this parting comment, she took her leave. As she shut the door behind her, she saw Stannis bring a hand to his lips, touching a few fingers to them lightly.

Sansa hurried to her room and flopped onto her bed. She wanted to shriek and squeal in delight, but restrained herself. Nothing would be able to wipe the huge grin off her face just yet, though.

As she thought about the last ten minutes, analysing each detail and trying to decide whether she would tell Margaery any of it, she recalled the business card Stannis had given her. She fished it out of her pocket and read what he had scrawled on the back.

 _Personal cellphone._ He had written, followed by a number. The card also had his work numbers and his email address. The front of the card showed the stylised logo of Baratheon Industries. The logo featured a stag and was printed in black and gold.

Sansa immediately reached for her own phone, and saved him as a contact. Then she texted him so that he would have her number too.

_Thanks for the chocolate. Best I've tasted! - Sansa._

That would look innocent enough if anyone looked at his phone, but hopefully he'd know that she was really talking about their kiss.

Sansa stayed flat on her back for a while, waiting for her body to cool down. Finally she stood up and went over to the floor length mirror in the corner of the room. Her lips still looked irritated and swollen, and her hair was in disarray, but her skin was no longer flushed. She put on some pink lip gloss to cover up the worst of the evidence, and ran a brush through her hair.

She was about to leave her room and join the others when her phone indicated that she had received a text message. Sansa was surprised. She hadn't expected Stannis to reply at all.

_Likewise._

Sansa's beaming smile could have lit up the darkest night. Stannis thought her kiss was the best he'd ever had. A squeal of delight escaped her before she could suppress it.

***

The Starks and the Baratheons (and Margaery) spent the rest of Easter Sunday relaxing, enjoying the ridiculous amounts of chocolate that Robert had brought, and subsequently passing out into chocolate comas.

Sansa helped her mother prepare a magnificent lamb roast, which the younger children (and Robert) didn't really have enough of an appetite to enjoy due to chocolate overdoses. They struggled on valiantly, however, and by the end of the meal everyone had finished at least one helping.

Sansa enjoyed the lemon cake dessert immensely, but not as much as she usually did. It paled in comparison with the chocolate Stannis had given her.

The evening wore on, and after a few board games and two temper tantrums (first Rickon, then Robert) Catelyn decided it was time for everyone to retire. They'd have to get up at a decent hour the following day to tidy up and pack their belongings for the trip back home.

Sansa enjoyed her evening, but missed having Stannis around. He never stayed for long after the board games started up. Although Arya could sometimes convince him to play chess with her. He was the only one besides her father and Robb whose skill was to Arya's exacting standards. Sansa thought Stannis might have a soft spot for Arya, because she was around the same age as Shireen. 

It was an odd feeling, being jealous of Arya, and she didn't much like it. Perhaps she'd get her father to teach her how to play chess?

Once Sansa and Margaery were alone in their room, Sansa shared a heavily edited version of her chocolate kiss with Stannis. Margaery was very impressed with Sansa's progress.

“He's already eating out of the palm of your hand,” Margaery said with a wink.

“No he's not!” Sansa protested. She didn't like the idea that she was somehow leading Stannis on -- she really liked him!

“He so is. You've got him wrapped around your little finger,” Margaery argued. Then she sighed happily. “Just think of all the society events you'll go to as his date once the two of you are out as a couple!” She threw a pillow at Sansa. “I'm so jealous!”

“Don't say that. I'm not interested in him because of the parties he gets invited to. Anyway, that's always more Renly's thing. And I suppose sometimes Robert goes. Stannis barely ever goes unless it's for something really important.”

Margaery shook her head and rolled her eyes dramatically.

“That's going to change once he has you to go along with him. He's going to want to show you off. It will make all the other business men jealous.” Margaery nodded sagely.

Sansa looked at Margaery doubtfully. She really didn't think Stannis was the type to reduce a woman to arm candy. At the same time, she really wouldn't mind dressing up for Stannis and helping him make a good impression. But she was certain that Stannis would never want an empty-headed bimbo on his arm.

“You're off your meds,” Sansa finally said and sent Margaery's pillow sailing through the air back at her.

Margaery just threw her head back and laughed, deftly catching the fluffy missile. “Soon you'll see that I'm right!”


	5. A Herculean task

Sansa was disappointed when she did not get a chance to sit with Stannis on the way back from the lodge to the car park where the Stark SUV waited. Catelyn made sure that they took three trips, and that everyone was buckled in safely. Robert complained loudly, but submitted to her will in the end.

While the luggage was all being sorted out in the car park, Sansa walked over to stand next to Stannis, who had just hung up on someone and was in the process of putting his phone away.

“I'll email you tonight,” Sansa promised quietly.

Stannis looked gratified for a moment, before frowning. “That isn't necessary.” He looked away, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

Sansa could tell that he really wanted an email, but didn't want her to feel pressured. She felt as if her insides had melted, leaving her warm all over. He really was such an endearing man, behind all those frowns.

“I know, but I want to.” She smiled up at him shyly.

Stannis looked at her for a long moment, before nodding curtly and then walking away at a brisk pace and offering to help her father with some of the Stark luggage.

Sansa let her eyes follow him, smile still in place.

“Stop staring at him like a sap, everyone is going to know!” Margaery came over and whispered in her ear. Then she tugged Sansa towards Renly, who was in the middle of telling Robb a story that apparently required a lot of wild hand gestures and eyebrow acting.

Sooner than Sansa would have thought possible, everyone had been piled into the two vehicles and they drove off.

The Starks headed back to their comfortable house in the relatively small town of Winterfell, and the Baratheons and Margaery sped towards to county of Westeros' biggest city. King's Landing. They'd drop Margaery off at Highgarden, another small town, on their way. Highgarden was where Sansa's secondary school was located. It was a private school where most of the well off young people in the county – and the really smart students on scholarships – went. There they received an education specifically aimed at preparing them for top of the line Universities.

Sansa couldn't wait to move to King's Landing when she started University. Not only would she be away from Arya, but she'd be closer to Stannis. She knew he spent most of his time in the imposing Dragonstone Tower building, a huge skyscraper close to the harbour, where his branch of Baratheon Industries based its operation from. Sansa also knew that Stannis lived near Dragonstone Tower. Once she was living in the city too, it would be easy to visit him.

If only she could start University sooner.

That evening, once Sansa had escaped from her family to unpack in her room, she started to compose an email to Stannis in her head while she sorted through her bag.

 _Dear Stannis_ No, that didn't sound right.

 _Hi!_ Too informal.

 _Hello Stannis._ Hmm. Might work.

 _I've been thinking about you all day._ Too clingy? It was true, though.

 _I can't wait to move to the city in a few months. I hope we're still in touch by then. Maybe some days we'll be able to meet up for lunch..._ No, that was definitely too clingy.

Sansa was so distracted by the email she was writing in her mind, that she didn't notice the soft knock at her door. Jon had to rap his knuckles quite hard on the wood before she noticed and invited him to come in.

“Catelyn said she'd drop you off at school tomorrow if you fancy a longer lie-in,” Jon informed her. Sansa usually took the bus to school, a forty minute ride from Winterfell to Highgarden. If her mother gave her a ride, it only took twenty minutes.

“That would be great! Thanks for letting me know.” Sansa smiled at Jon, but replaced it with a curious expression when Jon made no move to leave her room.

“Was there something else?” she prompted. What could Jon possibly want from her? They'd been closer since Sansa stopped giving him the cold shoulder, but still not really chummy. Jon was usually away at school except for holidays, anyway. He was training to become an officer with the coast guard. 

“I, uh, I just wondered... Is there anything going on with you? You've been – you've seemed different for the past few days,” Jon hesitantly asked, looking worried that Sansa might snap at him for prying.

She really should snap at him. Why was Jon being so nosy? But she couldn't be mad at Jon. Not after how he'd been there for her though the Joffrey situation. Sansa took a deep breath to quell her irritation, and forced a nonchalant smile to her lips.

“I don't have the slightest idea what you mean,” she lied. How would he know, after all? It wasn't like he was around much. She thought Jon must be the most perceptive person in her family if he could notice a change in her without having a proper frame of reference. Or perhaps the others had noticed too, but hadn't felt the need to interrogate her about it.

“Sure you don't.” Jon rolled his eyes at her. “Whatever is going on, it seems to agree with you. You haven't looked this happy since before Joffrey.”

Sansa simply blinked at him, surprised as Jon clapped her on the shoulder awkwardly. With a smile he turned around and left.

***

_Hello Stannis._  
 _I hope you made it back to your place all right and that your brothers and Margaery left you in peace._  
 _I've been thinking about you all day, and wishing I had more of that chocolate you let me taste._  
 _Have you been thinking about me too?_  
 _I hope you take me out soon. I think I would like to wear something special for you. What's your favourite colour?_  
 _Don't keep me waiting too long._  
 _Impatiently yours,_  
 _Sansa._

Stannis read the email for the tenth time in less than half an hour. He had just finished sorting through his luggage and putting everything away when his phone alerted him to the newly received message.

At first he had simply read it on the screen of his phone, but then he had booted his computer up to have a proper look.

Of course he'd been thinking about her throughout the day. The promise of this email had been tantalising, and Stannis had been wondering what she'd write. As for her wish for more chocolate – Stannis expected he'd never again be able to eat the brand of chocolate they had shared without getting hard. 

He still couldn't quite believe how he had accosted her after she'd made those incredibly suggestive sounds as she enjoyed the piece of chocolate he had given her. Thankfully, she had not seemed offended. Quite the opposite, judging by her reactions, but it really was appalling how he seemed to lose all control of himself where she was concerned.

Speaking of control, the email had his imagination inflamed with images of Sansa in a black and gold dress. A dress that would be easily removed to reveal matching underwear and sheer thigh-high stockings, suggested his subconscious. That would definitely be special.

Did she know what she was doing to him? _Impatiently his_ , indeed!

It took him two hours to compose a reply that he didn't make him cringe.

_Sansa,_  
_The drive back was tolerable._  
_I admit you've been on my mind as well. I expect I will talk to your father when my schedule allows. What is your schedule like for the next few weeks? Final exams?_  
_As for colours, I prefer black and gold._  
_Perhaps I will save you a piece of chocolate._  
_-SB_

It was close to midnight when he hit send. When he fell asleep, he dreamt of long red hair, ivory skin, and clear blue eyes.

***

Stannis sat in his car and hoped none of the neighbours had noticed him sitting there for the past fifteen minutes. It was dark, so perhaps he was adequately hidden in the shadows. The sun had gone down a few hours ago, and he was hoping the Stark household would be relatively quiet by the time he worked up the courage to knock on their door.

It had been two weeks since the long weekend at the Stark lodge, and Stannis couldn't put this conversation off any longer.

He'd been exchanging emails with Sansa nearly daily. Sometimes she'd simply tell him about her day, sometimes she'd reveal some of her hopes regarding her impending move to the city. Quite often she sought his advice or opinions on one matter or another, and usually she'd reveal her feelings or opinions in return. Stannis tried to follow her example and was getting much better at sharing his thoughts. He usually only discussed his thoughts with Davos, if anyone at all, but Sansa was proving to be a sympathetic ear, and often had fresh insights or a different perspective that Stannis had not considered. 

As stimulating as their correspondence could be – he was constantly amazed at how Sansa could the most mundane subjects sound flirtatious – Stannis was longing to receive her attentions in person.

For that to happen, he needed to exit his car, walk up to the house, knock on the door and talk to Eddard. Truly a Herculean task.

Stannis took a deep breath and stepped out into the cold night air. Then he resolutely walked towards the front door of the Stark residence. He wasn't quite sure when he'd last felt as nervous. Perhaps on his first day as the Managing Director of Dragonstone? At the moment, Stannis would much rather repeat that day than knock on the door he was faced with.

His hand was hovering in front of him, when it seemed he would be spared the effort. The family's dog started barking and scrabbling about on the other side of the door, obviously in a state of advanced excitement.

“Down, Summer!” Catelyn's voice commanded firmly. Then the door swung open. Stannis lowered his hand.

“Oh, hello Stannis. I wasn't expecting you. Have you come to see Ned?” Catelyn greeted Stannis neutrally, obviously confused by his sudden appearance at her door. She gestured for him to enter and offered to take his coat. Stannis waved her off.

“I have. Where might I find him?” He was not to be sidetracked with any pleasantries. Not now that he had made it this far.

“He's in his office, I believe.” She indicated a door that was just visible from where they were standing.

Stannis nodded and wasted no time in making his way through the house at Catelyn's words. He was immensely relieved that none of the Stark children were anywhere to be seen. They must all be cloistered away in their respective bedrooms.

Catelyn seemed a bit bemused at his behaviour, but clearly decided it was none of her concern, and disappeared down a hallway.

Stannis rapped his knuckles lightly on the door to Eddard's office, and received an invitation to enter nearly at once.

“Come in!” Eddard's voice sounded relaxed, though he had raised it so it would carry through the wood.

Stannis opened the door and stood in the doorway for a moment, allowing Eddard to recognise his caller before entering the room.

“Stannis, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Eddard inquired and nodded at the chair in front of his desk. Stannis took a seat.

“Eddard. I've come to discuss a – ah – private matter.” Stannis hesitated.

“Please call me Ned, I'm sure I've asked you to before. Drink?” Eddard – Stannis could never quite bring himself to call him Ned, no matter how often Eddard invited him to – raised his own glass of cognac to indicate what was on offer.

Stannis declined the offer politely, citing the fact that he was driving.

“What did you wish to discuss?” Eddard prompted.

Stannis breathed out slowly, trying to access the speech he'd memorised from his suddenly uncooperative brain.

“I don't know if you recall, but Sansa and I had a chance to spend some time together at the lodge the other week.” Stannis decided to plunge right into it. He'd have to bring Sansa up at some point, and he did not think he could stand to dance around the subject at length.

“Yes,” Eddard wrinkled his forehead in concentration. “She twisted her ankle and ended up keeping you company on the first day.” Eddard's face smoothed out. He looked pleased to have remembered.

“Indeed. We got to talking, as I think I mentioned when I joined you and my brother in the hot tub, she told me that she's starting University after the summer.” Stannis thought it would not hurt to remind Eddard of the conversation in the hot tub, where the older man had stated that he would not object to any of Sansa's suitors, as long as they were to her liking. 

Eddard only nodded, encouraging him to go on. Stannis was starting to regret not surrendering his jacket to Catelyn. It was becoming unbearably hot.

“We discussed her plans, her interest in studying business, and a great many things.” Stannis knew he was stalling, but felt the need to underscore that he was interested in Sansa because they had got to know each other. Not because she'd sat in his lap and given him a raging erection. Both were true, but what Eddard didn't know, wouldn't hurt him -- or cause him to hurt Stannis.

Eddard was starting to look as if he suspected something. Stannis hurried to continue.

“I suppose what I am trying to explain is that Sansa and I got to talking, and ended up discovering a mutual interest in one another.”

Silence.

Stannis felt a drop of sweat roll down his back as he forced himself to meet Eddard's eyes. The man's face had turned into a completely expressionless mask. A long moment passed.

“I see.” Eddard's face was completely unreadable. Stannis didn't know whether he should continue explaining, or quit while he was ahead. Since he had practised more things to say, he decided to risk a few extra words.

“Sansa and I have been exchanging emails, and she has indicated that she would be open to going out to dinner with me.” Stannis looked at Eddard. Still no reaction.

“That is why I am here. I'd very much like to take Sansa out to dinner, but I have no wish to do so without your knowledge and consent.” Stannis forced himself to keep looking at Eddard's unmoving face and speak slow, deliberate words. What he really wanted to do was run away, but that would be cowardly and ridiculous.

More silence.

Finally, Eddard moved. He took a drink from his glass, not taking his eyes off Stannis while he did. Then he cleared his throat.

“You want to take Sansa out on a date?” Eddard clarified. Stannis couldn't identify the tone of voice Eddard had used. Too serious to sound surprised, too surprised to sound angry.

“Very much,” Stannis confirmed, and felt his face warming under Eddard's stone-faced scrutiny.

“And Sansa has told you that she wants to go?” Eddard was wrinkling his forehead. Stannis was relieved. At least that was an expression.

“Yes, she has been most insistent that I invite her out, actually.” Stannis wasn't sure if it were possible to feel more uncomfortable. Perhaps he should have phrased that differently? He didn't want Eddard to think that Sansa was pestering him.

In a sweeping movement that took Stannis by surprise, Eddard rose from his seat and walked to his door. He opened it and called out. 

“Sansa! Come to my office, please.”

Then he calmly returned to his seat. Stannis was trying his best to look unperturbed, but this was the last thing he had expected Eddard to do. He wasn't sure if this was a positive or a negative development, but a traitorous part of his mind was rejoicing at the idea of seeing Sansa again.

When she appeared in the doorway, Stannis' heart sped up. She looked stunning, wearing those black skin-tight things that Stannis knew were generally referred to as 'yoga pants', and a loose fitting top. Her hair had been collected into a single braid that hung down her back, and her face was clear of cosmetics. When she caught sight of him, her face broke into a brilliant smile.

“Stannis!” she exclaimed. Then she looked at her father. “What's going on?” she asked easily, as if this were not a highly stressful situation.

“Stannis tells me that you two have – how did you phrase it? - _'discovered a mutual interest in one another'_. Is that true?” Eddard asked, gesturing for Sansa to sit down in the last remaining chair.

She perched on the edge of the seat lightly. “Yes. I really like Stannis. I've been telling him to ask me out for weeks,” she confirmed, and smiled sweetly at Stannis.

Stannis was still trying to focus on keeping his expression from betraying his acute discomfort and anxiety. He feared he was having limited success.

Eddard rubbed his face with his hands and sighed. “What is it with you Baratheon men and Stark women?” he muttered. Stannis assumed he was referring to Robert's ancient history with Eddard's sister, Lyanna. Stannis made a mental note to ask Robert about it. He'd never known the full story of what happened. He knew it had been quite the dramatic affair, but was unaware of the details.

“Just tell him that you don't mind, Dad.” Sansa rolled her eyes, but her exasperated expression was quickly replaced with fond amusement. She clearly thought that this whole situation was endearing, but unnecessary.

“Far be it from me to be a roadblock on the way to my daughter's happiness,” Eddard said, sighing in mock defeat. “But while she lives in this house you will have her back before midnight,” he added, looking at Stannis and attempting to sound stern but not quite succeeding. Sansa's presence seemed to have reassured him somehow, and it softened his demeanour. A small smile was playing at his lips as he turned to gaze affectionately at his daughter. Meanwhile, Sansa had broken out into the triumphant smile of a girl who has got her way. “Thank you, Dad!”

“Run along, Sansa. I want a word with Stannis before he leaves.”

Sansa smiled joyfully at them both and bade them good night. Then she turned on her heel and disappeared from the room. To Stannis it felt as if a comforting fire had suddenly been doused with water. The room felt a little more intimidating again.

He was cautiously optimistic. After all, the man had already given him permission to take Sansa out. He wondered what Eddard wanted to say to him that his daughter could not hear. His imagination came up with several mortifying possibilities, and Stannis desperately hoped none of them turned out to be true.

“I know you're not the kind of man to play games with a girl's heart. Which is why I'm happy to give you my leave to take Sansa out.” Eddard paused to give Stannis a hard look. “The age difference concerns me, however. Are you certain you are interested in a relationship with someone who must be considerably less mature than you?”

Stannis felt that this was simply a politically correct way of asking him what his intentions were with Eddard's daughter. Stannis had prepared for that question.

“From what I've come to know of Sansa, I don't think she is lacking in maturity. Perhaps as pertains to certain aspects of her life – some things only come with age, of course – but where it matters she has revealed herself to be an exceptionally smart and thoughtful young lady.” Stannis chose his words very carefully. He did not want Eddard to think that Stannis was only thinking about how grown up her body was, and how ready he was to take her to bed. Even though that was partly true.

Eddard hummed out a noise at this speech, and took another drink from his glass.

“Back before midnight. I’m _trusting_ you,” Eddard finally reiterated, giving him a very stern look and then nodding at Stannis in clear dismissal.

Stannis heard the meaning behind Eddard’s words loud and clear. _’Do not even think about having sex with her, or else.’_ Stannis swallowed and nodded in understanding. 

He couldn’t really promise the man that he’d stick to holding her hand, but he _could_ state with confidence that he wouldn’t pressure Sansa into doing anything she didn’t want to do. However, he didn’t think Eddard would want to hear anything that wasn’t a promise not to lay a finger on Sansa, so he remained silent.

Stannis carefully stood up as unhurriedly as he was able, and took slow, measured steps out the door. He did not want to give the impression that he was running away in relief. Even if that was what he most felt like doing.

When he neared the front door, Catelyn appeared to see him safely out of the house. He did his best to give a good, polite impression as he took his leave, but he wasn't quite sure what he said to her. His head was in no condition to communicate much of anything. The cold night air helped when he stepped out into the street so he slowed to enjoy the refreshing sensation, in no hurry to get to his car though he made sure not to loiter suspiciously.

He had actually done it. He had received Eddard's blessing to take his daughter out. Now he was free to arrange the evening he'd been imagining for a while now. It would be sophisticated, understated and enjoyable for the both of them. At least that was what he hoped. Perhaps he might steal a kiss at the end of the evening?

He would certainly not attack her as he had when she had come to his room with the box of chocolate. Time and distance had made him increasingly horrified at his behaviour. Their other kisses had all been innocent pecks in comparison. He reminded himself yet again that Sansa had been enthusiastic, so at least he had not been taking unwanted liberties. He was all too aware that overpowering Sansa would be an easy matter for him. He could probably do it and still keep one hand free.

The thought caused him to shudder with revulsion. 

He must be careful not to use force with her, and not get carried away. It was in his hands to be the responsible one. He was the older, more experienced party. He would not hurt her.

It was just that he was still felt like two men when it came to her. One wanted to take things slow, and the other wanted to take any liberty she would allow him. It was insufferable.

Stannis leant forward onto the steering wheel of his car for a moment, trying to gather his wits.

Tomorrow he was faced with the much more pleasant task of officially asking Sansa out. It would be preferable to be well-rested and alert for the occasion, and if he wanted to get some sleep anytime soon, he needed to get going.

He glanced towards the Stark's house before he started the car. A slender figure in a lit window waved at him. He waved back and she disappeared. All at once it was as if all the tension in his body had been drained away.

She was so beautiful, so kind, so intelligent, and she genuinely wanted to spend time with _him_. She took every opportunity to kiss him or feel his arms around her, constantly flirted with him in her messages - it was exhilarating. Stannis felt as if he had been given a second chance. As if the clock had been turned back and he was young again. Back before Selyse, and before he'd become so guarded. He wished to hold on to this feeling for as long as possible. 

However, he worried that perhaps this was just a phase for Sansa. When she started her University classes she might meet someone younger and more attractive -- realise that Stannis was all wrong for her.

Just the thought of it caused clumps of ice to appear where he usually kept his internal organs.

Stannis ran a hand through his hair in agitation. He knew he was getting ahead of himself. He'd been like this with Selyse as well. Going from barely knowing her to being married to her in just a few months. It was somehow always _all or nothing_ for him.

There was no helping it now. He'd simply have to let this all play out. If Sansa tossed him to the curb in a few months, then he would just have to make sure that he enjoyed every moment she gave him. He did not allow himself to even consider the possibility that Sansa would somehow _not_ eventually grow tired of him. He could not afford to allow such a dangerous hope to take root. So he steered well clear of that line of thought.

Nodding to himself, he returned home without fanfare.

***

“I swear he was just here, speaking with my dad!” Sansa whispered excitedly, having dialed Margaery's number just about the second after she'd waved goodbye to Stannis.

“What, who?” Margaery's voice sounded confused and curious on the other end of the line.

“Stannis!” Sansa almost shouted. She couldn't believe he had actually gone through with asking her father for permission to date her! It was so honourable and stupid and _completely_ charming.

When her father had called her to his study, she'd had no idea that Stannis would be with him. Of course, when Sansa had seen him, she'd known immediately why he was there. She had wanted to squeal with joy, but she didn't want Stannis to think she was a silly teenager who went around making high pitched noises and being overly dramatic about things. Even though she felt some situations simply warranted a little exuberance.

She had made do with her biggest and brightest smiles instead. Especially when her father had said he wouldn't object to Stannis taking her out. Although she really must convince him to extend that silly curfew a bit. What if Stannis wanted to take her somewhere in the city? Most of the posh restaurants expected dinner guests to start late and stay late, and then there would be the commute back!

“Hello?” Margaery sounded as if she'd been repeating herself. Sansa blinked a few times to bring herself back to the present.

“I'm here. Sorry, I'm just in shock, you know,” Sansa apologised. But Margaery could hardly blame her for letting her mind wander in a situation such as this.

“Tell me everything!” Margaery encouraged gleefully.

Sansa described how her father had called her to his study, and how the conversation had gone once she got there.

“I still can't believe he was so okay with it all. But then he kicked me out so he could say something to Stannis in private. What do you think he said? I hope it wasn't anything embarrassing...” Sansa had been intensely curious about what her father wanted to say to Stannis after she left, but she hadn't dared eavesdrop.

“Oh, probably just interrogating Stannis about his 'intentions'. Isn't that what fathers are supposed to do?” Margaery drawled, and Sansa could practically hear the eye-roll through the phone.

“I hope not! That's so embarrassing.” Sansa squirmed uncomfortably at the thought.

“Just ask Stannis about it on your date.” Margaery emphasised the word “date”, drawing it out teasingly.

Sansa felt herself blush. She supposed she would be going on a date with Stannis, finally. They'd be able to talk properly, not just write emails. Maybe she _would_ find the courage to ask him about what her father had said to him. She doubted it, though.

“He hasn't asked me out yet,” Sansa reminded Margaery.

“Don't worry, he'll ask you tomorrow. He wouldn't go to the trouble of talking to your scary father if he wasn't dying to take you out.” Margaery sounded very sure of herself.

“My father is the least scary man on this planet,” Sansa scoffed.

“I think Stannis would disagree. Otherwise he would have talked to your father much sooner,” Margaery deduced shrewdly.

“He's been busy...” Sansa protested weakly. Could Margaery be right? Was Stannis actually intimidated by soft-hearted Eddard Stark? If Stannis was intimidated by her teddy bear of a father, that had to mean that he had really wanted to conversation to go his way, and had been worried about the outcome -- as if a date with her was a matter of great importance to him. Sansa suddenly felt warm all over. It was a very flattering idea.

“Sure. He hasn't been too busy to send you those emails every day, though,” Margaery pointed out.

“That's hardly the same as driving all the way out to Winterfell,” Sansa countered. “Do you think I should write him now?” she asked, changing the subject. She didn’t want to argue.

“Yes! Be breathless with excitement at having seen him again!” Margaery giggled.

“Be serious! What should I say?” Sansa really wanted to write Stannis, but she really had no idea what to say. Margaery's suggestions were usually a little over the top, but sometimes she gave Sansa good ideas.

“I was being serious,” Margaery giggled some more, “tell him that he looked handsome, and that you thought he was a dashing prince come to rescue you from your horrible sister.”

“You're completely useless,” Sansa complained, but couldn't help giggling along with Margaery's silliness.

“I'm sure you'll think of something. When in doubt, feed his ego. Men love that,” Margaery suggested airily when she finally stopped laughing.

“I guess.” Sansa hesitated. “I want him to know how happy I am that he's doing all of this for me. I know it's probably hard for him.” Sansa hoped Margaery would not make fun of her for this confession.

“You have it bad, Sansa.” Margaery didn't sound like she was mocking Sansa. She sounded almost sympathetic. Then she laughed again. “It's going to be so funny to see Stannis in a good mood all the time once you guys start fu – “

Sansa cut Margaery off before she could finish her crude remark. “Good night, Margaery!” Sansa hung up. She felt like her face was on fire. The idea of having sex with Stannis had only been a very vague one, at the back of her head. She had been content with thinking about dinners, dresses and kisses so far. But of course she had wondered what it would be like. She was certain Stannis wouldn't hurt her like Joffrey had. He would respect her wishes, and they wouldn't do anything she was uncomfortable with. Sansa had a feeling, based on how far they had gone over of a piece of chocolate, that she would be comfortable with Stannis doing quite a lot with her.

Sansa pressed her thighs together, trying to relieve the ache that was building there. Perhaps she would go to bed... and get a pillow. Sansa didn't really think of that as “getting herself off” as Margaery called it. It was just – just something that felt really nice. Like Stannis' thigh between her legs had felt. She wondered if actually having sex felt similar. She expected it did a little, but that it was _more_ , somehow. At least she hoped so. Tentative experiments with her fingers had never really felt as amazing as some girls claimed sex to be. The few times she had tried it she was just reminded of Joffrey's painful and unwanted prods and pokes. 

It had to be different when she was with someone who treated her properly.

Sansa hoped so.

She bit her lip and decided to write Stannis a quick email before going to bed. Perhaps it was ill-advised to write to him when she was in such a _heated_ state, but she wanted him to know that she appreciated what he had done tonight.

Sansa started a new email, instead of opening their most recent thread of conversation.

_Hello again,_  
_Thank you for coming to see my father tonight. I still think you're being very old fashioned to want to ask his permission, though of course it's very chivalrous and charming. No one has ever done something like this for me before._  
_But I can't believe you didn't warn me ahead of time that you were coming to my house, Stannis! I was dressed in absolute rags. What must you have thought of me?_  
_I promise I'll wear something much more interesting when you take me out. Although you might not be able to see all of it! Not on the first date, at least._  
_XOXO Sansa._

Sansa pressed send before she could feel too embarrassed about implying that she would wear exciting underwear for him. She made a mental note to herself that now she'd definitely have to take Margaery up on her offer to take her underwear shopping.

That was her last coherent thought for the night. She lost herself to fantasies that featured quite a lot of grinding and kissing. They also featured Stannis being _very_ appreciative of her wearing some quite scandalous scraps of lace. She really enjoyed the thought of how his face would look, and how his control would slip – just enough to excite her. Perhaps he would make that kind of growling sound again?

When Sansa's phone went off to declare a new email received, the noise fell on deaf ears. Sansa, quite dishevelled and still a little flushed, was sleeping soundly, so she did not discover the message until the following morning.

It read:

_Sansa, I suspect you know perfectly well that the clothes you were wearing earlier served you well. I certainly had no objections. Nor do I object to anything you might wear. Visible or not._  
_You also know very well what my reasons were for coming to Eddard before inviting you out. It's not my nature to be less than up front about my intentions. Additionally, I believe I would have had to have a similar conversation at some point. Best to get it out of the way._  
_In any case, I'd very much like to see you tomorrow. (Perhaps I should say 'today', as it is quite late.) We have some plans to make, I think._  
_-SB_


	6. A brotherly chat

Sansa had a very awkward breakfast with her parents the morning after Stannis came to talk to her father. If she hadn’t seen the message she had received from Stannis during the night and been almost too happy to feel anything else, she probably would have been overcome with embarrassment. She didn’t know how her parents had managed to get the rest of the family out of the way, but it was just the three of them at the kitchen table, and her father was looking at her with a _concerned_ expression. Her mother was mostly looking amused, although she was obviously attempting to keep a straight face and support her husband in his hour of need.

“Are you absolutely _sure_ you want to go out with Stannis? He’s much older than you.” Her father was wrinkling his forehead and looking at her in bewilderment as she buttered some toast.

“I really like Stannis,” Sansa said, repeating her words from the night before, her thoughts on the message that she wanted to answer. “I thought you liked him too? You’re always going on about how honourable he is, how well he runs things at work, and how Robert should really appreciate him more.” She raised an eyebrow and bit into her bread.

“Er, yes, of course I have great respect for Stannis. That’s not entirely the point.” He frowned and looked at his wife for help.

“Your father is just worried about you. What _I_ want to know is whether you’re happy?” her mother asked, giving her a probing look. Sansa knew that her father wouldn’t pester her if she got Mum on her side, so she looked her mother straight in the eyes and used her most sincere, genuine tone of voice.

“I’ve never been happier.” It was the truth. She was thrilled at the prospect of going out with Stannis and getting to kiss him some more -- this flirtation with him was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to her. She felt herself smiling at the thought, and thought her cheeks were probably going a little pink.

Catelyn was convinced. Sansa could tell by the way her mother’s eyes widened and sparkled with how happy she was for her. With a pleased, knowing smile playing on her lips, Catelyn turned to her husband.

“Let’s not pester Sansa about this, darling. She needs to get going to school.”

Her father looked at the two of them in turn and understood that it would not do him any good to speak of the matter further. He sighed. “Of course. I should get going too.”

Once her father had left Sansa alone with her mother, the pair of them exchanged bright smiles.

“I’m so glad for you, sweetheart,” her mother said, embracing her. “I know Stannis will treat you the way you _deserve_ to be treated.” She kissed her forehead and released Sansa from her arms giving her a slightly watery, regretful look. Sansa knew her mother must be thinking of the treatment she had _not deserved_ which she had suffered at Joffrey’s hands.

Sansa didn’t trust herself to speak. She just nodded at her mother, feeling a little choked up all of a sudden.

Her mother sniffed and shook her head a little as if to clear it. “Well! Look at the time! The bus will be here any minute!”

With no time to lose, Sansa rushed out the door, the rest of her toast clutched in her hand.

***

Sansa and Stannis ended up arranging to meet with each other in the city, after they were finished with school and work, respectively. Margaery, after interrogating Sansa about the emails the pair had exchanged, decided they should use the trip and go shopping.

First Margaery would wait at their favoured café near the shopping street where all the best boutiques were located, while Stannis and Sansa met. Then Sansa would join her.

Sansa hurried on her way to the park where Stannis had suggested they meet. She was a little late because of the slow bus service from Highgarden to King's Landing, and she did not wish to keep Stannis waiting for longer than necessary.

When she first caught a glimpse of him, standing by the fountain he had described when he had recommended the park as a meeting place, she could tell that he was a little agitated. At least his frown was very pronounced. When he saw her approaching, his face smoothed out and his lips quirked with that almost–smile she had sometimes glimpsed. She was sure that it meant that he was happy to see her.

“I'm so sorry I'm late!” she apologised, “the bus service was slower than it usually is.”

Stannis nodded in understanding and motioned for them to have a seat on a nearby park bench. Feeling satisfied that Stannis wasn't annoyed with her, Sansa looked around to take in their surroundings. 

Stannis could hardly have picked a more beautiful place to meet with her. As it was early in the summer, everything was green and blooming. Sansa paused for a moment to admire a particularly lovely patch of pale pink flowers she did not know the name of. The fountain that dominated the area was a beautiful marble affair, featuring an embracing couple. There were very few people about, so the mood of the place was peaceful.

“This park is lovely,” Sansa complimented after she had looked her fill.

“Sometimes I walk here from Dragonstone when I'm having a particularly stressful day,” Stannis confessed, looking down at his hands.

“I can understand why.” Sansa smiled and looked around contentedly.

“In my opinion, it looks its best in this season. I thought you might enjoy it.” Stannis kept talking to his hands. He seemed embarrassed by his thoughtfulness. Sansa reached out to touch one of his hands with her own.

“Thank you, I love it here,” Sansa said once Stannis had looked at her in response to her touch. This seemed to embolden him, for he took a breath and launched into what was obviously a prepared speech. Sansa thought it was quite sweet that he had felt the need to prepare himself in such a way.

“Sansa, you already know that I wish to get to know you better and that I have sought your father's consent to take you out. I would now like to ask you if you would do me the honour of being my dinner companion this Friday evening?” Stannis actually looked a little nervous, Sansa thought.

She was quick to soothe his nerves. “Of course I will!” She beamed at him. “I thought you'd never ask,” she added mischievously, swatting his upper arm lightly.

Stannis looked immensely pleased. Sansa could tell by the light in his eyes, and that little quirk of his lips. She felt a sense of accomplishment at having chased his frown away.

“Are you certain Friday is convenient?”

Sansa nodded cheerfully. “Yes, perfectly fine.”

Stannis looked to be at a bit of a loss, now that their arrangements had been made. Sansa decided to prompt him to consider some of the details.

“Shall I meet you in the city on Friday?”

Stannis looked surprised at the notion.

“No, I will come and pick you up from your home. Perhaps at six?” Stannis quirked his eyebrows in question. Then in explanation he added - “to allow time for the drive.”

“That sounds great, Stannis.” Sansa purposefully said his name a little flirtatiously as she gently touched his hand again.

This time, Stannis responded by covering her hand with his own. Stannis' hands felt rougher than hers, and so much bigger. It reminded her of the touches they had shared at the lodge a few weeks ago, and her cheeks darkened with a blush. Sansa dared to meet his eyes, looking up at him through lowered lashes. His pupils had dilated, making his eyes appear much darker than normal. His gaze was intense and full of desire. Desire for what precisely, Sansa didn’t quite know, though she had a few ideas. The eye contact lasted for a long moment, but then Stannis dropped his gaze to her lips.

She could now clearly tell that he wanted to kiss her. Sansa was just about to let her eyelids flutter shut and lean her body towards Stannis in preparation of being kissed, when Stannis suddenly stood up.

“Thank you for meeting me here.” He was now looking anywhere except at her and seemed uncomfortable. _Confusing man._

“It was no problem. Margaery and I decided to use the trip and go shopping.” Sansa smiled, hoping to regain Stannis' attention and distract him from his sudden discomfort.

Stannis looked startled at her words, and started looking around in something approaching alarm.

“She's waiting for me at a café.” Sansa guessed that Stannis was worried that Margaery had been there to overhear their earlier conversation. The look of relief on his face when she told him that Margaery was nowhere near, confirmed that she must have been correct.

“I could perhaps drive you there?” Stannis offered, looking unsure of whether she would accept.

“Only if you're not busy. It's not too far from here, I could easily walk.” Sansa didn't want to be an imposition, but she was quite excited at the idea of a bit more time with Stannis. She was also curious about what kind of car a man like Stannis would drive. Nothing ostentatious, she thought. Practical, but well made and probably expensive.

Instead of assuring her that _'no he wasn't busy'_ and _'of course he would drive her'_ etc. etc., he simply offered her his arm and headed towards the street where a few cars were parked. Sansa tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow, feeling like the heroine of one of her romance novels, and fell into step with Stannis. His arm felt firm and steady, and walking this close allowed her to breathe in the scent of his aftershave. It smelled very fresh and a little sharp. Sansa loved it immediately.

As it turned out, Stannis drove a new, charcoal grey BMW. Spotlessly clean, despite the dusty roads. Sansa wondered if the dirt was too intimidated by Stannis to settle on his car.

Stannis opened the door of the passenger side and held it open for her before walking to the driver's side. His manners really were rather impeccable, Sansa thought. Unless she was sitting in his lap. She smiled to herself, blushing at the memory.

Once they had joined the relentless stream of city traffic, Sansa gave Stannis directions to the café. He navigated the streets expertly, and Sansa hadn't had nearly enough time to enjoy the feel of the luxurious leather upholstery when they arrived at their destination. 

Aside from giving directions, Sansa had not said much on the way. It had not been very long since she had learnt to drive herself, and she did not appreciate too much chatter when she was driving. Especially in city traffic. Stannis was obviously a much more experienced driver, but Sansa did not wish to pester him.

Additionally, she was enjoying the opportunity to silently observe him while he was so focused on the road. There was a neutral sort of frown on his face, not quite a scowl, and his brow was a little furrowed in concentration. He seemed to feel her eyes on him, so he glanced at her, his eyes a very deep, dark blue. She smiled at him and quickly looked out the window. As soon as she thought he was looking at the road again, she went back to examining him. His hand on the gearstick caught her eye. He really had very nice hands, she thought, blushing a little as she remembered his touches again. They were large and very clean, his fingers were long, and each fingernail neatly trimmed. It did not look like a professional manicure, however. Sansa almost giggled at the idea of Stannis visiting a manicurist.

Sansa glanced at his eyes to make sure his eyes were on the road still. They were. Feeling a little silly, she allowed her eyes to stray to his lap. As he was sitting, the tailored suit trousers were stretched over the powerfully built thighs and she could see a little movement as he manipulated the pedals. Glancing nervously at his eyes again, she looked at an area of his anatomy that she knew was decidedly not ladylike to look at. Everything looked very innocuous. She had a wild urge to reach her hand out and touch him to see if he would respond. _What was wrong with her?_ She had never entertained thoughts like these before!

Blushing fiercely, she resolutely looked out the passenger side window for the rest of the short journey.

When the car had come to a halt, Sansa broke her silence.

“Thank you for the ride. I can't wait to see you on Friday!” She leant over and kissed Stannis on the cheek before she could talk herself out of it. She got out before he could respond. Right before she shut the door she waved, giving him a joyful smile. “Goodbye!”

Stannis had that pleased light in his eyes again, and she could see through the window that he quirked his lips at her before giving a turn signal and rejoining the traffic.

Sansa didn't linger on the curb, she had a feeling that Margaery might be getting impatient. 

When Sansa entered the café, she immediately spotted Margaery. The pretty brunette had snagged a table by the window that faced the street and from the look on her face, she had witnessed Sansa's parting from Stannis.

“Nice ride!” she complimented, sounding almost genuinely impressed. 

“Oh, shut up,” Sansa grouched good-naturedly as she sat down next to her friend, but Sansa was unable to keep an annoyed expression on her face for long, even just a pretend one. Soon she was smiling goofily and telling Margaery about the romantic park Stannis had met her in, and how she was officially going out with him on Friday.

“Couldn't wait until Saturday, could he?” Margaery smirked, sipping the last of her drink. Sansa just blushed in response. She supposed it was nice that Stannis had picked the closest possible date night. But it didn't have to mean anything. Perhaps he was just busy on Saturday.

“Well, let's go find you some sexy new lingerie, then!” Margaery said with a wink, once she had finished her drink.

Sansa looked around in embarrassment, hoping no one had overheard.

“Not so loud!” she hissed at Margaery. Margaery just laughed delightedly.

***

Back in his office Stannis breathed a sigh of relief. He had done it. He had asked Sansa out, and would have her to himself for a whole evening! It was baffling to him that he had made it to this point. He had thought that Eddard would forbid it, or that Sansa would change her mind, or that Eddard would _murder_ him. In some ways it was almost worse that Eddard had simply told him that he _trusted_ Stannis. Stannis wasn’t sure if he trusted himself. Especially not around Sansa. He had almost started kissing her in the park. In public. Where _anyone_ might see.

She had definitely been looking at him like she wanted him to kiss her...

Stannis shook his head. Thinking of it would only distract him which would be highly inappropriate. He was at _work._ However, he should really make reservations somewhere. Where was Davos? Davos would know a good place. He needed to talk to his friend about all of this anyway. He’d been putting it off for long enough.

Stannis was about to pick up the phone and call Davos when he heard the sound that alerted him to a new email.

Thinking that it might be from Sansa, Stannis hurried to open it.

_Dear Stannis,_  
_It was lovely to see you last night. I hope you had a pleasant drive back._  
_Ned told me that you asked to take Sansa out on a date. He was quite bent out of shape about it last night! It was rather entertaining._  
_Sansa has told me that she’s very happy with the idea of going to dinner with you and I can tell that she means it. Her happiness is everything to me, and I know Ned feels the same._  
_I’m not sure if I’ll get the chance to speak to you face-to-face anytime soon, and I have the feeling it would be awkward to get the words out in person, so I’m writing you this note instead._  
_Please be kind to my daughter and tread with care. She hasn’t been very lucky in love in the past._  
_I realise the same can be said of you, which is why I think you two might actually be good for each other. I said as much to Ned, but he’s still busy trying to convince himself Sansa will never grow up. He’ll come around._  
_Have a lovely day._  
_Regards,_  
_Catelyn Stark_

Stannis blinked at his computer screen once he’d read the message through. He wasn’t fooled by the light, pleasant tone of the message. Catelyn Stark was known to be fiercely protective of her children. Her request for him to treat Sansa with kindness and care was quite obviously a _command._ She was putting up with him because she saw that Sansa was pleased. The moment that Sansa was _displeased_ , however, Stannis had a feeling he would be torn to shreds by the mother she-wolf before Eddard had a chance to give him a speech.

He swallowed nervously.

At least Catelyn seemed inclined to give him a fair chance, and she seemed to have accepted that Sansa was growing up. That had to bode well, surely?

He hoped so.

His intentions to call Davos completely forgotten, he spent the next few minutes wondering how Sansa had managed to be unlucky in love already.

Soon he was buried in work, however, unable to spare his private life, much less Sansa’s romantic past, a single thought.

***

It had been hours, and Margaery had dragged Sansa though two department stores with underwear sections the size of Rome, before they had ended up in a little boutique that specialised in the less practical kind of lingerie.

When passing through the department stores, Sansa had picked up a few replacements for her every day underwear, nicer and more grown-up, with lace trims and padding in the bras. Margaery insisted on this. (“Only little girls or women who are properly endowed – lucky bitches – wear bras without padding!”)

Now she was shyly looking around for something _special._ Something she would want to be wearing under her clothes when she and Stannis made it to the point where she'd want to undress in front of him. Sansa bit her lip when she realised how sure she was that it was 'when', and not 'if'.

“How about this set?” Margaery held up a very pretty bra and matching panties. They were made of pale pink fabric, but it was mostly hidden by a lot of black lace. Sansa accepted it from Margaery, thinking she ought to try it on.

“Usually I wouldn't suggest pink because of your hair, but this shade might work. And I think the combination of pink and black, suggesting that you're innocent – but still sexy – will drive him wild!” Margaery grinned wolfishly. “Trust me, men go crazy for a hint of innocence,” she added knowingly. “Not too much, though. Pure white cotton will put everyone but the pedos off.”

Sansa had no idea how to respond to her friend when she got like this, so she simply headed towards the changing rooms, but on her way there her eyes caught a glimpse of gold. She remembered how Stannis had mentioned that he favoured black and gold, so she went to investigate. What she found was absolutely _perfect._ It was a black bra with gold brocade details, with matching panties and a silk dressing gown. Sansa instantly knew that she had to get this set.

She turned around to call for Margaery, but was faced with someone completely unexpected instead.

“Hello little dove,” Cersei Lannister greeted her, the malicious smile on her face cancelling out the effect of her honeyed voice.

Sansa blinked at Cersei for a while before she remembered her manners. “Hello Cersei,” she finally answered politely.

“I see you intend to waste no time in seducing dear Stannis.” Cersei nodded at the pink and black set of underwear in Sansa's hands.

Sansa resisted the urge to shake her head to clear it. Had she heard Cersei correctly? How did Cersei know she was going on a date with Stannis? It hadn't been decided until today.

“I'm not sure what you're implying,” Sansa tried, her voice trembling slightly.

“Didn't you know?” Cersei's smile was predatory. “You're the talk of the town! The little girl who has managed to turn Stannis Baratheon's head.” Cersei's mocking words were turning the contents of Sansa's stomach into stone. “If the women who tried before you had known his tastes ran so young, they might have sent their daughters after him instead,” Cersei finished with a quirked eyebrow.

Sansa stared at Cersei and struggled to keep her expression from betraying her confusion and growing anger.

Before Sansa was able to say anything in response, Margaery arrived on the scene.

“Don't listen to that old divorcée, Sansa. She's just jealous.”

Cersei lifted both eyebrows derisively. “Oh, am I? As if I'd want anything to do with that sour, ungenerous little man. I was quite close with Selyse, you know. He never treated her as he should have. Drove her into the arms of another man, last I heard.”

“Make up your mind, Cersei. Either women are throwing themselves at him, or they're being chased off. Can't have it both ways,” Margaery countered, rolling her eyes.

Sansa just stood with her mouth slightly open, unable to believe the scene she was witnessing. Why on earth would Cersei be bothering her about Stannis? How on earth had Cersei _known_? How could her upcoming date with Stannis already be the talk of the town? She knew the rumour mill worked fast, but this was ridiculous.

“A lot of women are foolish enough to think that Stannis isn't as grumpy as he looks,” Cersei said dismissively. “And they're interested in his family name and his fortune, of course,” she added, as an afterthought.

“Believe me, little dove, he is just as sour as he looks. And even if you do secure him, he'll never let you run wild with his money,” Cersei addressed Sansa, and if Sansa didn't know that Cersei hadn't a kind bone in her body, she might have imagined that Cersei was trying to give her helpful advice. One ‘gold digger’ to another. This more than anything enraged Sansa. How dare Cersei assume she was only interested in Stannis for his money? That was not who she was.

“Thank you for your advice, Cersei. But I think I will keep to the advice of those who are in _successful_ relationships.” Sansa's rage finally allowed her to snap out of her silence and speak for herself. Her tone had been absolutely icy. She was quite proud of herself.

Margaery looked delighted at what Sansa had said. Cersei looked affronted and well on her way to incensed.

“Watch it, you little tart,” Cersei hissed, turned around and exited the shop in high dudgeon.

Margaery glared after the blonde until she was out of sight, and then turned to look at Sansa with her eyes comically wide.

“What the hell was that?”

“I have no idea.” Sansa shook her head slowly. “How did she know about my date with Stannis so fast?”

“Oh, Sansa. Your father probably told Robert about Stannis' visit as soon as Stannis left last night. You know that Robert can't keep his mouth shut. The fact that Stannis wants to take you out will have circulated in high society today, and I wouldn't be surprised if it were all over Westeros tomorrow.” Margaery sounded like she was having to explain second grade arithmetic to Sansa.

Sansa honestly hadn't thought anyone would care about her and Stannis. Sure they were from prominent families in society, but Stannis never really went to any of the events, and she was still relatively unknown. 

Margaery seemed to read Sansa's mind. “I know Stannis isn't the most talked about of the Baratheon brothers, but he is still a Baratheon. He's important, and mother says that when he got married to Selyse after just a few months of dating, it was the most talked about piece of gossip of that year.”

“Why were you talking to your mother about Stannis?” Sansa wrinkled her forehead in confusion.

“I was asking for you, silly! You need all the information you can get at the start of a new relationship.”

Sansa supposed that made sense.

“What else did she tell you?” she asked, curious. She knew Margaery's mother was older than Stannis, much nearer Robert in age, but it she also knew that Margaery's mother loved gossip, and was always up to date with everything that was going on in Westeros society.

“Disappointingly little. Stannis hasn't led a very scandalous life. She did say that he used to be slightly less grumpy as a child. Always quite serious, but that the permanent scowl didn't really appear until after he married Selyse. My mother thinks it was a loveless marriage.” Margaery frowned a little, as if annoyed that there wasn't more to tell.

“Based on what Shireen told me last Christmas, Selyse was a gold digger. Started treating Stannis like garbage the minute she found out that he wouldn't buy her a mansion,” Sansa scoffed.

“Ugh, what a peasant.” Margaery wrinkled her nose in disgust. Margaery came from the kind of old money that considered it to be gauche in the extreme to be seen or heard obviously coveting money.

“Anyway, let's get your things and go home. Cersei's put me off shopping,” Margaery sighed dramatically.

Sansa ended up buying both the black and gold set, and the pink and black that Margaery had told her to get. It wouldn't hurt to have a bit of a selection, she thought. Margaery threw a few packets of lace-topped, stay-up stockings her way as she was paying. (“He'll _die_ when he sees you!”) Sansa winced at the number that appeared on the till, but handed over her credit card. Her parents didn't think it was good for the Stark children to have access to too much spending money. So until she turned twenty-one and gained access to her trust fund, she had to make do with a 'reasonable' allowance. Margaery thought this was some cruel and unusual punishment, but Sansa knew this was probably good for her. She watched how Margaery shopped without really considering things properly, buying and using once – or never, even – and she knew that she did not wish to emulate her friend in this.

It was nice to be able to afford the occasional extravagance, however, she thought as she left the lingerie boutique with a stylish shopping bag. She always felt a little rush of pleasure when she got to strut down the street with a bag from a high-end shop. She doubted it would feel as fun if she did it all the time.

She was certain that even if Stannis offered to let her 'run wild with his money' she wouldn't take him up on his offer. Righteous anger at Cersei's implications boiled close to the surface. How dare Cersei even think such a thing of her? The nerve.

Sansa and Margaery were half way to the bus stop when Sansa could no longer contain her anger.

“I can't believe Cersei accused me of being a gold digger!” she huffed disgustedly.

“Don't let what she said get to you. She's a bitter old hag,” Margaery soothed. “Anyway, people tend to see the world on their own terms. Cersei probably can't imagine that you could see something in Stannis other than his name and his money. That's her problem, not yours.”

“Yes, but what if other society women think the same thing? Won't that hurt Stannis?” Sansa worried, her rage mutating into anxiety.

“Of course dating you won't hurt Stannis. He mainly does business with the men, and they will all be jealous and impressed with him. They'll all want to know how he managed to charm you.” Margaery performed one of her more impressive eye rolls to indicate her disdain for such men.

“The spiteful hags can judge all they want, it won't hurt Stannis. Only you, if you let them.” Margaery glanced at Sansa. “You won't let them, will you?” 

Sansa thought about it. She would not be able to say anything to change anyone's mind about her relationship with Stannis. It was barely even a relationship yet, and already they were the targets of cruel gossip. She would simply have to ignore it, and if her date with Stannis did turn into something more, then time would prove that she was no gold digger. If nothing came of their date, then she would probably have to endure some mocking for a while, but then it would die down, and people would move on to the next piece of gossip.

“I won't,” Sansa resolved, lifting her chin and holding her head high.

“That's the spirit!” Margaery grinned.

The two girls used the time spent waiting for the bus, and the long journey home, to plan Sansa's date outfit, cosmetics, nails and hair in minute detail.

***

The day after Stannis managed to ask Sansa out, Davos cornered him in his office.

“Why didn't you tell me you're chasing after the Stark girl?” he asked, looking a little hurt at not having been included.

Stannis blinked at Davos in surprise. He had intended to discuss his plans for the date with Davos yesterday, but he had been distracted by that email from Catelyn Stark. He did not mind that Davos somehow knew about the date anyway, but how had he found out?

“I'm not chasing after her,” Stannis said stiffly. “I have invited her to dinner on Friday night. I had intended to ask for your opinion on a suitable restaurant,” he explained, trying to indicate that he would have included Davos in his plans soon. Hopefully that would soothe his ruffled feathers. Davos was his only real friend, he didn’t want to upset him without a good reason. Although he thought it was slightly strange for Davos to be upset over such a thing.

Davos looked mollified and now seemed determined to bring Stannis up to speed. “According to Melisandre, the entire social elite is buzzing with the news that you're after the girl.” 

“How on earth did it get out so fast?” Stannis was baffled. He'd only asked her out yesterday. He doubted Sansa was spreading it around, she didn't seem the type to do that. Her social circle was limited to her school mates and her family anyway; she did not have immediate access to the worst gossips in Westeros.

“Apparently, the source is Robert. I thought you might have told him, but not seen fit to tell m– “ Davos cut himself off, looking slightly chagrined.

“Of course I wouldn't talk to Robert before talking to you,” Stannis said, feeling irritated at Davos for even thinking it.

Then it dawned on Stannis. Eddard must have talked to Robert.

“I went to see Eddard on Monday to let him know my intentions. He must have wasted no time in calling my brother.” Stannis rubbed his face in aggravation. What had Catelyn said? That Eddard had been bent out of shape? He must have called Robert to moan about it.

Davos looked far too cheerful at this piece of information.

“Yes, that makes sense. Ned would have wanted to know what Robert knew.” Davos nodded sagely. Stannis thought that made even more sense than Eddard wanting to complain. No matter the reason, the result was the same. _Robert knew._ Stannis felt his stomach knot up. How much time did he have before Robert came to torture him about this?

Suddenly, the intercom on the desk went off. “Robert is here to see you, Stannis. Do you want me to let him in?” The bored voice of his assistant sounded loud and jarring.

Stannis walked over to press the button that would allow him to respond. “Yes, fine.” He couldn't keep the irritation out of his tone. _Not much time at all, apparently._

“Speak of the devil and he will appear, eh?” Davos commented, idly. “Shall I leave you two to it?” he added.

“Perhaps that would be wise,” Stannis admitted, steeling himself for the upcoming conversation.

“Take her to a Japanese place. Those are all the rage these days -- and the food should please even you.” With that Davos left, leaving the door open for Robert.

“Stannis! Why didn't you tell me you were interested in Sansa? I could have helped!” Robert laughed. “You know Ned and I go way back.”

Stannis resisted the urge to roll his eyes. It would be a cold day in hell when Stannis went to Robert for relationship help.

“I felt the situation was under control,” he said through gritted teeth. “Why have you felt the need to inform all of Westeros of my private business?” he added, trying to keep his anger in check.

“What? I haven't told anyone! Just a few men down at the club, you know how it is.” Robert affected an innocent air, before smiling conspiratorially at Stannis.

“No, I don't know how it is.” Stannis ground his teeth. “Why are you here, Robert?”

“I wanted to congratulate you on finally taking an interest in a woman!” Robert boomed happily, clapping Stannis on the shoulder. “I thought you might have gone cold as a fish after Selyse, but Sansa is pretty enough to light any man's fire, eh?” Robert was dangerously close to leering.

“Thank you,” Stannis ground out, glaring at Robert. “Will you leave now?”

“But Stannis, I want to hear all about it!” Robert looked crestfallen.

“There's nothing to hear. We haven't been on a date yet.” Stannis would not have put up with this conversation if Robert weren't his brother, and more importantly the CEO of Baratheon Industries.

“Come now, Stannis. Something must have happened for you to think she might accept...?” Robert trailed off encouragingly.

“We talked.” Stannis was scowling deeply, and grinding his teeth so loudly that he was sure Robert could hear.

Robert regarded him sceptically. If Stannis hadn't been so angry, he might have become a little flustered under his brother's scrutiny. He had several things on his conscience regarding Sansa.

“You can tell me, you know. I won't tell Ned,” Robert wheedled.

“There's nothing to tell,” Stannis insisted. This time he felt himself go a little red. Damn chocolate. Damn his lack of self control.

Robert raised an eyebrow. He could obviously tell that Stannis wasn't being truthful.

“Did you sleep with her?” Robert guessed, leering again.

“No!” Stannis paled. If Robert started that kind of rumour, he was not sure what Eddard would do. “We kissed. That's all. She's hardly the sort of girl you bend over a desk after a ten minute acquaintance.” Stannis decided it was better that Robert knew a little of the truth, rather than assuming the worst. The desk comment was meant to shame Robert, as Stannis had caught Robert in a compromising position with some random chit in his office, once. It was also meant to indicate that Stannis was after more than just sex.

“Hah, I knew you must have done more than talk to her,” Robert crowed, “and I'm sure you want to bend her over every available surface. If you don't, then we're simply not related.” Robert waggled his eyebrows obscenely.

Stannis pointed at the door. “Out,” he spat, disgusted at his brother's words. But mainly he was disgusted with his imagination, for supplying him with the images to go along with his brother's words. He was deeply ashamed of the lust the images invoked.

Robert chuckled at Stannis' disgusted expression, shook his head and calmly let himself out. Robert was right. No straight male could look at Sansa and not desire her. He was fairly sure most _women_ wouldn't throw her out of bed.

Once alone, Stannis sat down at his desk and hid his face in his hands. He did not need these mental images. He had work to do, damn it!


	7. Shabu-Shabu

On Friday it took Sansa three hours to get ready. Margaery came over for moral support, her hair styling expertise, and her ability to keep Arya out of the way.

The finished look was so polished, that Sansa thought she looked like she could have graced the cover of a magazine. 

Margaery had managed to coax her red hair into a style that was half up, and half down. Twists and braids lead from her temples to the back of her head, and a cascade of coppery red hair flowed down her back. Sansa didn’t think she’d ever seen her hair shine so brilliantly and so interrogated Margaery regarding what she had used at length.

Sansa had done her make-up herself, opting for soft browns and hints of gold around her eyes, and a natural, peachy lip gloss.

After a lengthy debate, Sansa decided to wear the same dress she had worn for her eighteenth birthday. It was a simple dress of black silk, but it hugged her figure in a flattering way and emphasised her long legs. Underneath she wore the new black and gold set of underwear, and black lace-topped stockings – just for the confidence it would bring. She had no intention of letting Stannis take her dress off tonight, but knowing that she was wearing something so daring would make her feel exciting and desirable. Hopefully it would come across in her body language and in her eyes. Margaery said it would.

Her nails were varnished a metallic gold, matching her golden strappy heels and her golden necklace. Her mother had given her the necklace for her sixteenth birthday. It was 24 carat gold, with a heart-shaped pendant. It was Sansa's absolute favourite, but she did not wear it very often for fear she might lose it.

Finally, Margaery lent her a black, silk clutch with a golden clasp, that went perfectly with her dress.

“You look like a supermodel in those heels! Are you sure you can walk in them?” Margaery was standing a little way back from Sansa, admiring the overall look.

Sansa didn't wear heels very often, so she hoped she would not have to do a lot of walking. She practised going back and forth in her room, and although the shoes pinched a little, she wasn't too wobbly.

“I think I'll be fine. I haven't worn them since Christmas, though.”

There was a knock at Sansa's bedroom door. “Sansa, are you nearly ready? I wanted to take a picture of you before Stannis gets here.”

Sansa blushed. She wished her mother wasn't acting like she was going on her first date. She'd been on dates before! It had just been a while…

“Come in, I'm ready,” Sansa called, trying to hide her embarrassment.

Catelyn entered the room, camera dangling from her wrist, and gasped. 

“Sansa! You look stunning.” Catelyn looked like she might tear up and start talking about her little girl becoming a woman. Sansa hurried to cut her off before she could get started.

“Thanks! Margaery did my hair. Where do you want to take pictures?”

Catelyn ended up taking pictures of Sansa in several locations of the house. Sometimes Margaery would photobomb, and in the end Catelyn took a few pictures of the girls posing together. “I'm going to look like a wreck next to Sansa in these pictures!” Margaery complained. Margaery did not look like a wreck. She looked perfect, as she always did.

Their impromptu modeling session was interrupted when a knock sounded at the door.

“He's here!” Margaery exclaimed, smiling widely at Sansa.

Sansa's heart started pounding, and she felt a swooping sensation in her stomach. A little like the feeling she sometimes got when she was a passenger in an aeroplane, just as it lifted from the ground.

“Don't you dare ask Stannis to pose for pictures,” Sansa ordered her mother, once she felt her voice would be steady.

Catelyn humoured Sansa, and lifted her empty hands as if in surrender. “No camera, I promise.”

Margaery gave Sansa two thumbs up, told her to have fun and made herself scarce. Sansa was grateful. She didn't want Stannis to feel like he was being studied like a specimen at the zoo. Not that Margaery would ever stare, but the less people around the better.

Sansa made a frantic 'go away' motion at her mother, who smiled, wished her a good evening, and walked into the kitchen. Once she was certain that she and Stannis would not be observed, she took a deep breath and opened the door.

Stannis had turned to the side while waiting for her to open the door, apparently examining a decorative wood carving. He stood a little stiffly, with his hands tightly clasped behind his back. Sansa was able to give him a once over to take in his choice of clothing for the evening before he noticed her, and she decided she quite liked what she saw.

He was wearing black on black. Black trench coat, black suit, black shirt. All made of fine, expensive looking materials. The only splash of colour was in his tie, which had gold stripes. Upon closer inspection later in the evening, Sansa also noticed he had golden cufflinks. His shoes were so polished that Sansa thought they might function as mirrors in a pinch. He had even used some sort of product in his hair, and shaved his face clean.

When Stannis turned to look at Sansa, she could tell that he was impressed. He froze, and stared openly for a brief moment, before catching himself and going a little red. He swallowed noticeably and cleared his throat.

“Ready to go?” he asked curtly, when he seemed to have gathered his wits.

He never was much for the normal pleasantries like 'good evening' and 'how are you?', Sansa had noticed. 

She nodded at Stannis and checked her bag, confirming that she had all the essentials in her borrowed clutch. Then she grabbed a gauzy wrap to cover her shoulders with, and walked outside to join him.

“Let's go.” Sansa smiled at Stannis in nervous excitement. She wondered where he would take her. Would this drive be as silent as their last? Should she think of some topics of conversation?

Stannis held the door of his car open for her, just as he had last time, and made sure she was safely tucked away in her seat before he closed it gently. Sansa smiled to herself. She really liked these gentlemanly gestures. It made her feel so spoiled.

Once Stannis was behind the wheel, he wasted no time starting the car and driving towards the main road. The radio came on, but it wasn't loud and it was set to a station that mainly played mellow old songs. When they had joined the other cars that were heading for King's Landing, Sansa decided to start a conversation and see how he'd respond. She didn't think he was like her, uncomfortable with too much talk while he was driving.

“You look very handsome in that suit,” Sansa complimented shyly, smiling at him. She wasn't fishing for a compliment in return, although she was very curious about whether he'd say anything about her look for the evening.

Stannis' grip on the steering wheel tightened momentarily and he glanced her quickly before returning his attention to the road.

“You look – You are – Ah –“ He went red again, and huffed out an irritated breath. “I'm not very good at compliments.” Stannis was frowning again, but Sansa was pretty sure he was simply annoyed because he was so tongue tied. It was the best compliment Sansa had ever received, being able to make a man like Stannis so flustered. She felt a warm glow settle over her, and her smiled widened.

“Thank you.” Sansa had never been as sincerely flattered. She continued to observe Stannis as he drove silently for a few minutes, her smile never quite fading away completely.

“Where are we going?” Sansa asked curiously after a while.

“I made reservations at a Japanese restaurant in the city,” Stannis informed her, glancing at her again, obviously worried that she might react negatively to the information. Sansa wasn't a picky eater, and she went for sushi with Margaery all the time, she was sure she'd be able to find something to her liking at a Japanese place.

“That sounds lovely.” She tried to sound as genuine as she could, hoping to ease his fears. When he seemed to relax a little, she thought she might have been successful.

Stannis gave her another quick look. “I'm told there is an appealing garden, accessible to dinner guests.”

Sansa thought he must have noticed how much she liked the park he took her to earlier in the week and was attempting to cater to her tastes. It made her heart flutter in her chest.

“Perfect! We'll be able to have a walk after dinner,” Sansa suggested eagerly, already looking forward to having Stannis to herself in a secluded corner of a pretty garden.

Stannis looked pleased at her enthusiasm.

They drove in comfortable silence for a while, listening to music that Sansa only vaguely recognised. When she noticed that they were passing Highgarden, another topic of conversation sprang to mind.

“My graduation is in a few weeks,” she told Stannis, allowing some of her excitement at the prospect into her voice. She really was excited to graduate. It meant she would be a step closer to moving to the city. She was also quite tired of most of her fellow students, having been in their company for much too long. She wanted to meet new people and tackle new challenges.

When Stannis nodded, she decided to elaborate.

“I'm really looking forward to being done with it. I wish I were living in the city already.”

Stannis prompted her to tell him more about the University she was starting, the classes he planned to take, and her living arrangements. Sansa obliged, and the subject lasted them until Stannis parked his car in front of a beautiful, sophisticated house that looked very Japanese to Sansa's eyes. It was a two-story wooden building, a little elevated off the ground with a patio surrounding the entire first floor. A gently sloped, tiled roof shielded the patio, with a matching roof at the top of the building.

Stannis helped Sansa out of the car, and gave her his arm to hold on to while they made their way to the front entrance of the building.

Sansa was glad for the support, as the path leading to the door was paved with slightly uneven stones, making it difficult to navigate in high heels. Stannis did not seem to mind her clinging to him, and even acted a little reluctant when they reached the patio and he had to part from her to open the door.

She thanked him quietly as he held the door open for her, and walked into the restaurant. Stannis joined her quickly, and soon they were being ushered around by a very polite Japanese hostess in a gorgeous silk Kimono. She explained that the restaurant had zashiki seating, and checked their shoes along with their coats. There were no shoes allowed in the dining area, as zashiki seating meant that people sat on pillows on the floor in front of low tables. Sansa thought it was charming, and hoped she'd be able to sit without her dress hiking up too far.

The hostess led the two of them to a secluded table, a beautifully painted screen separating them from the rest of the dining area. The hostess explained that the table featured a built in hot plate, and that this would be useful since they would be using boiling hot broth to cook thin strips of meat. This was a 'shabu-shabu' restaurant, according to the polite young woman. Sansa was fascinated. She'd never experienced anything similar before.

The hostess explained the menu and how they should order, then she left them to get comfortable and read through their options. A waitress would be along soon to take their drink orders, she promised.

Sansa smiled brightly at Stannis. “This is amazing!” she exclaimed, trying to sit down on her side of the table in as ladylike a way as she could. It took a little arranging, but she was able to fold her legs in a demure way, making sure her dress covered everything it should. Meanwhile, Stannis had sat down like he did this all the time.

“Have you eaten at a shabu-shabu restaurant before?” Sansa asked him, curious about how familiar he seemed with everything.

“I usually go if I'm in Japan.” Stannis was already scanning the menu.

“It's my first time,” Sansa replied unnecessarily, glancing at the different drinks that her menu advertised.

The waitress that came to take their drink orders was also wearing a beautiful Kimono, and Sansa was starting to want one of her own. They looked so beautiful! Both Sansa and Stannis asked the waitress for green tea.

Stannis told Sansa about what his experience had been with a few of the different broths available, and they agreed to go with the traditional dashi stock. Then they ordered a selection of beef cuts and vegetables.

Sansa couldn't remember having a more interesting meal before. The broth arrived and stood on the table's hot plate which kept it piping hot. The meat and the vegetables came with two types of dipping sauce. Stannis told Sansa they were called goma tare and ponzu sauce.

"Goma tare means sesame seed sauce. Ponzu is made of several different components, I think yuzu soy sauce, citrus juice and vinegar. A few other things too. It's quite good."

Sansa watched how Stannis swished his strips of meat in the broth to cook them, dipped them in goma tare or ponzu sauce, and ate them. She carefully copied him, and was amazed at the taste. The freshness of the ingredients was perfect, and the taste of the dipping sauces and the broth rich and tangy. Sansa noticed that Stannis was ignoring his rice, and wondered if that was just his preference, or if she should too.

"Don't you like rice?"

Stannis looked up from the strip of meat he had been coating in ponzu sauce. He looked at his bowl of rice and then back at Sansa.

"Usually people cook the meat and the vegetables first. The broth soaks up the flavour and at the end you can add the rice to the broth and eat it," Stannis explained. "If you're still hungry," he added, and Sansa was sure he looked amused. It made her smile. The thought of being hungry enough to eat all that rice at the end of the meal was a little ridiculous. Perhaps they had over-ordered on the meat and vegetables.

Fiddling with their food left plenty of time for conversation, and having something to do with his hands seemed to relax Stannis. They talked about all sorts of things. Sansa was curious about what other countries Stannis had been to, and as it turned out he had been to many of the places Sansa hoped to visit. She had to restrain herself from bombarding him with questions.

Thankfully, it wasn't too hard to encourage him to tell her travel stories. He mostly went to different countries on business, but the way he told it, there was usually some time to take in the famous sights. Stannis appeared to be surprised, but gratified, at the interest Sansa showed and how she hung on to his every word. But Sansa did not think he should be surprised. After all, she had not traveled very much. She had just been on the occasional family holiday abroad, and was usually not allowed to pick the destination. Therefore she was fascinated by the blanks he was able to fill in for her.

Sansa was also simply happy to hear him talk so much. He was generally always so quiet, which was a shame she thought, as his voice was really so pleasant to listen to. A little rough around the edges, but very masculine and attractive. Sansa blushed a little, hoping Stannis wouldn't notice.

In return for his stories, Sansa told him about the few places she had been to, and how she had finally got her wish to swim with dolphins and see a coral reef fulfilled two years ago. She told him of her dream to see the Russian ballet in Moscow, and how she had wanted to become a prima ballerina when she was little. Stannis didn't look at her like that was a ridiculous idea. On the contrary, his eyes told her that he thought she would have been an amazing ballerina. He asked why she had given it up.

"My feet couldn't take the stress. I'd only been in toe shoes two years when it became clear that I wouldn't be able to continue. You should have seen my toes! It was gruesome." Sansa winced at the memory. Stannis looked sympathetic. It was a strange expression to see on his face. Sansa did not think he felt the need to express sympathy very often. He seemed much more like the type to expect people to toughen up and quit complaining.

They ended up leaving the rice alone, and getting dessert instead. Sansa was sure Stannis was only having dessert to humour her, as he didn't have much of a sweet tooth. She was surprised when he seemed genuinely excited about the strange, squishy looking balls they received. They were dusted with chocolate powder and looked very odd to Sansa.

"Mochi is really very good." Stannis looked a little embarrassed at his enthusiasm. Sansa did not think he had any cause to be embarrassed, as she was sure she would not have recognised his enthusiasm if she hadn't been making an effort to study Stannis and his micro-expressions.

Sansa took a bite out of her mochi and immediately loved the texture. It was almost like a particularly chewy marshmallow. But much less sweet. There was only a slight hint of sweetness. She could see why Stannis liked it so much.

"I agree, ordering this was a great idea!" Sansa exclaimed after her first bite. "What is it, though?" She couldn't imagine what it was made of.

"It's made of rice. Rice which has been pounded into a sort of paste, if I understand it correctly. What we're eating probably also has a bean paste filling," Stannis told her, still savouring his own mochi.

"Well it's delicious!" Sansa smiled as she popped the last of her treat into her mouth.

They lingered over tea for a while, and Stannis told Sansa about his first trip to Japan. He had refused to even try mochi for the longest time, until he ended up in a situation where politeness dictated he eat it. Politeness was a serious matter in Japan, Stannis explained. He had been pleasantly surprised at the taste, and ended up eating mochi every day for the rest of that particular trip. Sansa smiled at the mental image of Stannis going into stores and using his limited Japanese to demand they surrender all of their mochi.

“Would you like to see the garden? It's getting late. I'll have to drive you home soon.” Stannis looked very regretful at the idea of having to drive her home. Sansa sympathised. She had no desire to leave his company.

“A walk sound perfect, but won't we need our shoes?” Sansa glanced at her feet, covered only by the sheer fabric of her stockings.

Their waitress, somehow sensing their need, floated over to them and asked if there was anything she could help them with. Stannis asked for the check, and for directions to the garden. The waitress explained that she would bring them the check, and then she would help them collect their shoes and coats and show them outside.

Before Sansa knew it, she was walking along a beautiful garden path, her hand happily tucked into the crook of Stannis' elbow. She couldn't believe how wonderful the evening had been. She was more certain than ever that she wanted to keep getting to know Stannis. Not only was he a good kisser, but he was interesting company when he finally came out of his shell. He didn't belittle her dreams or talk down to her in any way, and treated her like an equal, but also like she was beautiful, desirable, and precious. It was a heady feeling.

She looked up at him in admiration. “This is the best date I've ever been on,” she told him, sounding a little besotted to her own ears.

Stannis stared at her in disbelief.

"Truly. I wouldn't say it if I didn't really think so," she insisted, willing him to believe her. "I really like you, Stannis," she added bravely, feeling uncomfortably aware of her blood rushing through her body. It seemed like her heart was working overtime to pump every last drop to her cheeks. She ducked her head, hoping to hide her blush.

“I don't understand you, Sansa. I'm much older than you, and I lack – I'm certainly not as good looking as you.” Stannis looked so lost and frustrated, his shoulders unusually hunched. Stannis always held himself completely upright, shoulders squared. It made him look so tall and proud. It was strange to see him now, looking almost defeated. As if he expected to be sent away at any moment.

Sansa decided to take a risk and let him know exactly why she wanted him, and not anyone younger or more classically good looking. She would be exposing a part of herself that was still tender and not quite healed, but she trusted Stannis. Perhaps it would help him understand why she appreciated him so much.

While she searched for the right words, they continued to walk through the beautiful garden. The path was meticulously well kept, free of any unsightly rocks or weeds. Every tree and plant around them had been deliberately placed so that it could be viewed to its best advantage. She'd never been in a garden that was as strategic.

She paused and leaned against a sturdy tree. The tree overlooked a nearby pond which was full of large koi fish. Even in the twilight, they could easily be seen, their scales glinting and flashing under the surface.

“I don't know how much of this you already know. It's not really a secret. Do you remember how I used to go out with Joffrey?” Sansa tentatively began her story, trying to assess how much Stannis already knew.

Stannis looked a little surprised that she was bringing this up, but wrinkled his forehead in concentration. He looked like he was trying very hard to dig up some half forgotten memories.

“Yes, I remember Robert saying something about it,” Stannis finally offered, looking satisfied that he was able to remember something relevant.

“Well, it was great in the beginning. He was just the kind of boy I thought I should be with. Handsome, from a good family, a gentleman.” Sansa shivered a little. Stannis noticed, and without fanfare, he draped his trench coat over her shoulders. He didn't move away from her, joining her in the shade of the tree. She gave him a grateful smile. He looked momentarily pleased, before returning to a more serious expression.

“I was so wrong about him.” Sansa's tone was bitter. “I don't know how he had managed to hide it, since we practically grew up together, but he was cruel.”

She took a deep breath. She hadn't even told her parents the extent of what Joffrey had put her through. His attempts at taking advantage of her physically had just been the straw that broke the camel's back.

“While we were together, he would pressure me to send him topless pictures of myself.” Her face burned with shame. She still couldn't believe that she had allowed herself to be persuaded to send him the pictures, but Joffrey had made it sound like she was a bad girlfriend if she didn't -- that he'd leave her.

“With me in the room, he'd show them to his friends. He even said he might post them online.” Sansa paused to try to steady her voice and prevent the tears that were gathering in her eyes from falling. She noticed Stannis go absolutely rigid at her words. His jaw locking, his hands clenching into fists. She was now leaning her back fully against the sturdy tree trunk for support. Stannis stood close by, a little to her left.

“Thankfully he never did. His friend Sandor pointed out to him that since I was only fifteen at the time, Joffrey could be arrested for distributing child pornography.” Sansa's voice trembled noticeably at her last words. What would Stannis be thinking of her now? She didn't dare look at him. Instead, she stared resolutely at the ground and kept talking. She would have to finish her story. Hopefully then he would understand.

“After we'd been together a few months, Joffrey decided it was time I did more than send him pictures and make out. He tried to make me go – do more.” Sansa thought her face might burst into flames soon. Saying these things to Stannis was completely embarrassing. She still couldn't bring herself to look at him to gauge his reaction.

“When I refused, he started touching – groping me.” Sansa's voice hitched. She was not going to cry. She was not going to cry.

“He finally hurt me enough that I – I slapped him.” Sansa stared down at the ground in shame. Then she made herself add the rest. “And I told him I'd make Summer bite him if he didn't leave.” Sansa knew it was very unladylike to be violent, and that it had been wrong of her to threaten Joffrey with Summer. The Siberian husky could easily have been deadly.

Sansa took another deep breath, it was quite shaky and revealed how close to tears she was. A few more breaths, and she felt steadier. She was determined to get to the important part.

“I haven't really felt comfortable around boys since Joffrey and I broke up. I can never quite trust that they're who they seem to be.” Sansa paused. What she was about to say might sound stupid to Stannis, but she had to. 

“I feel so different with you. I know I can trust you not to hurt me. You make me feel safe.” Sansa finally risked a glance up at Stannis. She wanted to know what his reaction was to her latest admission before she continued.

Stannis had a very strange expression on his face. He was still all clenched, still angry at Joffrey – she hoped he wasn't angry at her, at least – but additionally he looked as if something was causing him pain. He looked guilty, she realised. Perhaps he was thinking about the kisses they had shared, worrying that he had been taking advantage and abusing her trust. That seemed like a very Stannis thing to worry about and it drained away the awful feelings that her memories of Joffrey had stirred, and gave her the strength to go on.

“But I wouldn't want to go out with you just because you felt safe.” Sansa smiled at him reassuringly. “If all I wanted was safe, I'd just hang out with my brothers,” she added with a small, slightly nervous, laugh. Stannis still looked guilty. She'd have to spell it out for him. Her cheeks burning, she attempted to make him understand.

“I like how you make me feel pretty and wanted, too.” She willed him to get her meaning, meeting his eyes bravely. His gaze was intense, and if her heart hadn't already been hammering away as fast as it could, she was sure her heart rate would have sped up in response to it.

Sansa tried to think of something to add, but it was so hard to find words that didn't sound like clichés from her romance novels. Stannis seemed to be on the right track to understanding, but not quite there. His face had gone from pained guilt, to guilty confusion. Why couldn't he just read her mind? Then he would know exactly how sexy and wonderful he made her feel without pressuring her. It was because he didn't expect anything from her that she wanted to give him everything. (And it didn't hurt that she thought he was incredibly hot...)

She decided to kiss him. Maybe she could show him how she felt, since her words were failing her. She stepped towards Stannis, away from the tree that she had been using for support.

It was a sweet kiss. Sansa poured all of her gratitude, her longing and her happiness into it. She brought her hands up, resting one hand palm down on his chest, and stroking the hair on the back of his head with the other. Stannis didn't respond at first, but after a short moment, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.

When their lips parted and their eyes opened, Sansa couldn't help the breathy sigh that escaped her.

“Sansa –“ Stannis sounded almost tortured, but he cut himself off. He didn't seem to know what he wanted to say. Instead he simply stared at her with guilty longing.

“It's okay, I want you to kiss me,” Sansa said, attempting to assuage his guilt. The point of telling him about Joffrey had not been to make Stannis feel guilty. It had been to make him understand why Sansa liked him so much. Because he was so different from Joffrey.

Stannis still seemed to be fighting some internal battle. Sansa decided to give him a little push.

“It feels so good when you kiss me, Stannis.” Sansa didn't have to lower her voice or try to make it sound sexy, it just came out in that breathy way that she had noticed Stannis seemed to like.

Stannis groaned in response and gave her a desperate, heated look. He stepped forward, pushing Sansa against the tree she had been leaning against moments before, and kissed her passionately. Sansa smiled into the kiss, and responded with enthusiasm. She clung to his shoulder blades, trying to communicate that she wanted him closer. Even though he was already flush against her, she still wanted him closer. Stannis used one of his hands to cradle the back of her head, making sure the scratchy bark did not tangle in her hair. His other hand was at her waist, his thumb was stroking her softly.

Soon, tired of craning her neck, Sansa managed to find one of the big tree roots to stand on, bringing her to nearly the same height as Stannis. The hand at her waist had released her briefly, and when it returned it was touching the side of her thigh, fingertips just below the hemline of her dress. The sensation caused Sansa to moan with pleasure, heat pooling between her thighs. Gods, she hoped he would keep his hand there!

***

Stannis couldn't believe he was doing this again. After the girl told him how she had been mistreated by Joffrey, her boundaries crossed, and her trust destroyed. He had told himself he would do better at controlling himself, but then she'd kissed him, and said his name in that irresistible way that went straight to his groin. It was as if she had a way of bypassing his rational mind, somehow.

Now his hand was dangerously close to being up her skirt, the girl was moaning, and the semi he had been desperately trying to keep from turning into a full-on erection was pressed up against a very warm, very soft, very _tempting_ Sansa.

He should step away. He should walk her to his car and drive her to her father's house. He should go home and have a cold shower. He should let his fingers brush the stocking-clad thigh just underneath her skirt…

The fabric under his fingertips changed as he inched them a little higher under her skirt – his rational mind having gone on vacation, apparently – was that lace? He stopped moving his hand and attempted to interpret Sansa's reaction. She made a sound of protest against his lips when he stopped, and he felt her hands pressing into his shoulder blades encouragingly.

He inched his fingertips a fraction higher. What he felt then caused him to break the kiss to catch his breath and stare at Sansa in surprise. She did not look at him in return, her eyes were closed, and she had immediately started kissing the sensitive skin of his neck, just underneath his ear. He swallowed thickly. His fingertips could feel skin.

His mind worked it out quickly. First he had felt nylon, then lace, then skin. She had to be wearing thigh-high stockings. Stannis' battle to keep his erection under control was immediately lost. Sansa gasped and pressed herself against him in response.

Was she trying to kill him?

Stannis squeezed his eyes shut and tried to get his breathing under control. Meanwhile, his traitorous brain informed him that her attire meant that if he wished, he could be seated deep inside her in three simple steps. He'd just need to free his cock, push her underwear aside, and thrust. It would be so _easy._

With an enormous effort of will, Stannis dropped his hand from Sansa's thigh and stepped away from her. He needed to get himself under control before he did something unthinkable. Sansa whined in protest when the neck she had been nuzzling was removed from under her lips. Stannis couldn't help feeling smug at her reaction for just a moment, before he shook his head a little to clear it.

“I think – It's probably – You –“ Stannis stumbled over his words, before cutting himself off and taking a deep breath to calm himself. “I should drive you home,” he finally managed, proud of how smooth his voice sounded, despite everything.

Sansa looked flushed and her chest was rising and falling in a very attractive way. Her careful hairstyle was slightly mussed, and her lips were swollen and red. When she looked up at him with lust-darkened eyes, Stannis had to use all of his willpower not to kiss her again. She smiled, and nodded her agreement.

They walked in silence to his car and Stannis was grateful for the slight chill in the air. It felt good on his fevered skin, and helped calm down certain parts of his anatomy. Sansa still had his trench draped over her shoulders loosely and did not seem to notice the temperature.

He really needed to get her home. If the roads were fairly clear, he should be able to get her into her father's house before midnight. He really didn't want to find out what would happen if they were late.

Sansa seemed to sense his agitated mood, and was content to be led straight to his car. 

The drive back to Winterfell felt all at once longer and shorter than the drive to King's Landing. He'd been so concerned over whether she would like the restaurant, and so distracted by her beauty, that the drive to King's Landing had felt unusually short.

Honestly, he thought he would have to cancel the evening when he saw her standing in the doorway of her home. She was all in black and gold, and she looked too gorgeous for the likes of him. He had wanted to tell her to go for someone better than him, that he wasn't worth the trouble, but he had been too selfish to do that. He'd wanted this time with her. Wanted to bask in her flattering attention and be able to look at her for hours without interruption.

Now the drive felt long because he did not know what to say to get her to converse with him again, so they were stuck with only the radio for entertainment, but it also felt very short because they were speeding towards the end of their evening together. Gods help him, he did not want it to end.

All too soon he was parking in the street in front of Sansa's house.

“Thank you for tonight, Stannis. It was perfect,” Sansa told him, and she looked absolutely sincere. He studied her face for a moment before replying. Her lips were looking a little less kissed, and her skin wasn't as flushed as it had been. She seemed to have smoothed her hair down a little, too. For the most part she looked entirely respectable. When he looked into her eyes, however... 

There was something so tempting in those eyes. Not quite calculated enough to look truly seductive, but there was a certain kind of innocent want. Her eyes told him she genuinely wanted him. He just didn't know if _she knew_ what it was that she wanted.

“Would you like to go out with me again, next Friday?” Stannis said the words before considering them properly. He just wanted to spend more time with her.

She smiled like he had just said words she had been waiting her whole life to hear. A man could get addicted to that kind of smile, he thought. It almost made him feel dazed to see it.

“Yes, of course! Are you going to pick me up at six like tonight?” Sansa was leaning towards him a little. It was very distracting.

“I think so, yes,” Stannis managed, he was staring at her lips again. He needed a cold shower.

“Goodnight, then,” Sansa whispered and she closed the distance between them and kissed him gently on the lips. It was just a peck, thankfully. Stannis was not sure he could handle any more than that. He fled the car before she could decide to kiss him again.

When he helped her get out, he couldn't help staring at her long legs as she stood up from the car. He wondered what they might feel like, wrapped around him.

He _really_ needed a cold shower.

Sansa allowed her hand to linger in his for a moment longer than necessary. Their eyes met, and Stannis was seized by the urge to bring her hand to his lips and kiss it. He gave into it. It was wonderful that he did, because it caused her to look at him with absolute adoration.

What a drug it was to be adored by her!

Stannis was struck by the realisation that no matter how much he attempted to treat her honourably, he would never be able to do the truly honourable thing and leave her alone. He would take anything she was willing to give him, and probably beg for more.

He stood frozen, watching her enter her house and appear in the same window as before to wave him goodbye. He returned her wave and forced himself to get back into his car.

Stannis had a shower to get to.


	8. A dance or two

Sansa had never felt quite as happy in her entire life. Dating Stannis was the last thing she had expected to end up doing this year, but it was perfect. After their first date they had continued to exchange occasional emails, and Sansa loved it when Stannis slipped up and let her see more of the man he turned into when they were kissing. She could tell he tried very hard to keep a proper distance, and she appreciated that he was doing his utmost to treat her like a lady, but it was thrilling when his control slipped a little, and he said something that made it clear to her that he wanted her very, _very_ much.

Their second night out together was just as lovely as the first. She had worn a dark green, backless dress that Margaery had lent her. It looked very demure from the front as fabric covered her from her knees up to her neck, but it left her entire back bared; the skirt only covered her from her hips down. Stannis' fingers had brushed against the skin at the small of her back a few times, when they had been walking side by side, or as he helped her to her seat. His touch had sent little electric jolts through her body. Sansa dreamt of being close enough with him to ask him to stroke her back from top to bottom, perhaps using his nails a little. She imagined it would feel divine.

Stannis took her to a more traditional type of restaurant for their second date, an Italian place with a very comfortable and romantic atmosphere. He admitted that his friend Davos (frequently mentioned in Stannis' emails) had been the one to to suggest the place. She'd had the Fettuccine Alfredo, he'd had the Risotto. They'd shared a tiramisù for dessert, but Stannis had let her eat most of it.

At the end of the night, they had exchanged heated kisses in the car, and Sansa had been more than a little tempted to crawl over the gearstick and plant herself in his lap for better access. As they were not far from her front door, she contained that urge. Although she did write a very daring email, telling Stannis about what she had wanted to do, once she was inside her house.

Today Sansa's graduation was only two weeks away, and although it was Saturday, she had no plans with Stannis. They hadn't been able to go out last night because Stannis had been abroad, and although he was returning today they couldn't go out tonight either. He had told her that he had an unavoidable work benefit to attend, and she understood that they were not quite at the level where she could go as his date to such an event. She knew that her parents were going as well. It was the last event of the season, an opportunity to mingle before summer vacations made it impossible for the social elite of Westeros to get together in one place. From what Sansa gathered, it was generally used by the business people to arrange deals and ‘close out the season’. Whatever that meant.

She felt comforted by the fact that Stannis had made it very clear in his last email that he'd much rather spend the night with her, and that he had something special planned for next weekend instead. He absolutely refused to tell her what it was, and Sansa was already dying of impatient curiosity.

Currently, Sansa was sitting in the living room of her house, reading some of her notes and trying to prepare for her last final exam which was to take place next Wednesday. She wasn't too worried about it. She had done well in all of the practice exams, and already had good grades for all the assignments she had handed in.

The house was unusually quiet. Arya and Bran had taken Summer to the park, and Rickon was having an afternoon nap. Something he rarely did, these days. That was why Sansa was almost startled when her father's voice suddenly carried through the house.

"Cat, have you seen my silver cufflinks?" He sounded as if he'd been looking for them unsuccessfully for a while.

After a short pause Sansa's mother answered, more than a little exasperated.

"I told you to find your things last night. You know I'm leaving for the airport in half an hour. I can't be bothered looking for your evening wear now!"

"What?" her father yelped, seemingly completely unaware of any of Catelyn's plans.

"I told you weeks ago, Ned. I'm going on a business trip."

Sansa was surprised. She had thought that her mother was going to the evening's event with her father. Catelyn certainly hadn't talked about this business trip much. Although she went so frequently that she rarely made much of a fuss about them anymore.

"But I told Robert we were coming." Her father sounded a little deflated.

"You can go without me, Ned. You'll be fine. Here are your cufflinks. I'll leave them on the counter in the bathroom for you." There was a fondness in her mother's voice that Sansa always liked to hear. She was glad that her parents got along. Margaery's parents never spoke to each other unless there was an attorney present.

"They're expecting two people. It's a sit-down dinner," her father grumbled, "and who will I dance with? You know I don't like it when I end up having to rescue Robert from Cersei. I'll have no excuse if I'm without a dance partner."

"Why don't you take Sansa with you? I'm sure she'll be happy for the opportunity to see Stannis, and she should be able to shield you from the terror that is Cersei," her mother teased.

Sansa's heart leapt. She would love to go to the benefit! Perhaps she might even get a chance to dance with Stannis? She doubted he could be convinced to dance very much, but maybe for her...

"Sansa?" her father called. She tried to school her features into a vaguely puzzled expression as she rose to join her father. She didn't want it to be obvious that she had been eavesdropping, but she didn’t think it should count when her parents were shouting at each other from across the hallway.

"Yes, Dad?" she said when she found her father. He was just coming out of the master bedroom, heading for the bathroom where Catelyn and his cufflinks were located.

"Did you hear what your mother just said?" he asked as the three of them ended up standing in the spacious bathroom together. He picked up the cufflinks from the counter and started examining them, looking for signs of tarnish. Her mother was carefully packing her cosmetics and toiletries for her trip.

"Some of it, yeah," Sansa admitted.

"Well, since she's unable to come to the benefit tonight she thought you might want to come with me," her father quickly explained, searching the cabinets for something to clean his cufflinks with.

"Stannis will be there," Catelyn sang cheerfully as she handed her husband the silver polish. She had found it after opening one drawer.

Sansa felt herself blush. She was glad that her parents knew about her and Stannis, and that she didn't have to sneak around. Still, sometimes she felt as if her mother was a little bit _too_ supportive. Sansa was pretty sure she was only acting that way to tease her father, because he always looked mildly uncomfortable when the subject was brought up. Sansa knew he didn't mind them dating. Not _really_ , but she thought that he'd look uncomfortable at the idea of her dating anyone, older than her or not.

"Sure, I'll go." Sansa shrugged, pretending that she wasn't absolutely delighted.

"You can wear one of my dresses," Catelyn offered, "but be very careful not to spill anything!" she warned.

Sansa suddenly had a much harder time hiding her delight. Her mother guarded her evening dresses jealously, and had only allowed Sansa to borrow one once before. Sansa had been the right size to fit in them by the time she was sixteen and since then she had been very impatient to be all grown up and able to have a few dresses like that in her own closet.

"Thank you! Can I wear the blue one?" Sansa begged. The cobalt blue floor length gown was Sansa's absolute favourite. It was made of the most heavenly soft, flowing material, but more importantly it had a long slit up the side, and Sansa knew that if she stood a certain way, nearly her entire thigh would be visible. She'd have to go without stockings or pantyhose if she wore it. Otherwise, with its modest Grecian neckline, it was a very simple unadorned gown.

"Yes you may," Catelyn indulged her with a smile, "my taxi should be here soon, I'll show you where it is but then I really must finish packing!"

Before long, Sansa was in her room on the phone with Margaery, being coached through the process of getting her hair into a proper French twist. Sansa had Margaery on speaker so she could use both hands to tame her hair. She had done a French twist a few times before, so she was mostly on the phone for moral support. And gossip.

"I can't believe you're going!" Margaery repeated for the fifth time. Sansa just smiled and let her vent. "It's only one of the most important black tie events of the season. I've been begging my mother to let me come with her since I was fifteen."

"My mother says there ought to be a few celebrities there tonight. You know that actor Loras thought he wanted to marry two years ago? Him and his current girlfriend will be there. I think they're getting their own reality show this winter. Oh, and she said the chancellor of your University will probably be there. Peter something? I can't remember his name. Just thought you might be interested since you'll be going to his school."

Sansa knew that Margaery would be able to go on in this vein for quite a while, so she stopped her to try to get more information on the chancellor. She searched her memory for his name. It had been in her early admission letter...

"Petyr Baelish?" she suddenly remembered. "Petyr Baelish will be there?"

"Yes, mother says he's actually very involved in the business dealings. He's apparently quite rich, and likes to invest in a lot of different things. Strange hobby for a chancellor, don't you think?" Margaery didn't sound that interested.

"I suppose," Sansa agreed. "Do you know if Stannis is bringing anyone?" She was suddenly worried she'd have to compete with some other woman for a dance with Stannis. She hadn't asked him if he was taking anyone other than her, and he hadn't offered the information, but if anyone would know if he was bringing a date, it was Margaery's mother.

"Don't worry, apparently Stannis has been going stag since before his divorce, even," Margaery said dismissively.

Sansa was very happy to hear it, although she felt slightly guilty for her happiness. Stannis must have been very lonely for a very long time. Hopefully she'd be able to keep him some company tonight. Perhaps when they had been dating for longer, she'd be able to go as his official date to these things. Margaery seemed convinced that he would want to invite her. Sansa was almost as sure, but she didn't think it would be to 'show her off'. She thought he might like her company.

Margaery told Sansa a little bit more about the people who would likely be at the event, and gave her a few excellent tips to get rid of the little fly-away hairs that were trying to escape their sleek, French prison. Then it was time for make-up, and Sansa needed all of her concentration for that. So she told Margaery goodbye, and thanked her for her help.

"Have fun tonight, tell me everything tomorrow!" were Margaery's parting words.

As Sansa was going with her father, she decided to match his silver accessories. So she went with a dramatic silver and black smokey eye, and silver earrings. She planned to leave her neck and wrists bare of jewellery, allowing the dress to make a statement.

When she was finally in the dress, and almost ready to leave, she realised she didn't have any shoes that were nice enough to go with her mother's gown. So she stole her mother's black designer stilettos. Surely she wouldn't mind. She'd given her permission to take the dress - That was practically like saying she could have the shoes as well.

Her father had splurged on a black town car with a driver to take them to the event, and Sansa enjoyed the luxuries the backseat offered. ("One glass of Champagne, Sansa. Just one.") Her father looked very nice in his black dinner jacket and bow tie, and she was happy to get to spend an evening with him. With so many children in the Stark family, some time alone with her father was a rare treat.

"You look beautiful, Sansa," he said and poured himself a glass of Champagne. He was looking at her with that sappy, paternal, 'I'm so proud of you' way. It made Sansa feel all gooey inside.

"Thanks Dad. You don't look so bad yourself." She smiled at him and clinked her glass with his.

"To my beautiful daughter!" he toasted, smiling at her in return.

***

Stannis gritted his teeth in annoyance. He knew this was one of the few social events of the season that he could not avoid attending, but he would much rather take Sansa out to dinner again. He had briefly considered asking her to come with him as his date, but thought it might fan the spark of gossip that seemed to making the rounds about them into a blaze. He wished to spare her having to deal with the sharks for a little longer. He knew that he would, if things continued to go so well, invite her to such an event eventually, but it was just too early to do so now. He was sure she would enjoy the chance to dress up and socialise. Perhaps she would even be able to help him talk to some of the snobs. She would be able to charm anyone, he thought.

Stannis arrived as late as he possibly could without being completely rude. He hated the first part of these events, standing around, 'mingling', and drinking Champagne. None of the serious business talk ever took place at this point, and the business talk was the only reason he bothered to show up.

He was seated next to Robert for the dinner portion of the evening, and that was as _fun_ as it usually was. At first Robert had complained loudly that Eddard wasn't at their table, and seemed baffled when Stannis did not appear bothered by it. Then he'd drunk about as much wine as the rest of the people at their table put together, and Stannis had to convince him that telling the Aristocrats joke would not be appropriate. (At least not the way Robert usually told it when he'd had a few drinks.) Olenna Tyrell would probably laugh, but he couldn't be sure about the rest of the old farts.

Once the ordeal of the five course dinner was done, the guests were encouraged to move to the adjacent ballroom, where a ten piece dance orchestra would be playing. Smaller tables would be set up around the periphery of the dance floor, allowing people to sit out the dancing if they wished, and indulge in coffee or brandy instead.

Stannis knew it was at those tables, in between dances, that the real business happened. He was eager to get to it, but his brother insisted they go say hello to Eddard. Stannis didn't object. He needed to keep in Eddard's good graces, after all.

Stannis could see Eddard and Catelyn at the other end of the room. Was it his imagination, or did Catelyn look unusually radiant? She was turned slightly to the side, so he couldn't get a clear look. This was a problem that Robert fixed moments later.

“Ned!” Robert called, jolly as anything.

Both Eddard and Catelyn turned to face Robert and Stannis. The distance between them was rapidly shortening, and Stannis realised that Catelyn was not Catelyn at all. The beautiful redhead on Eddard's arm was Sansa.

Stannis had though the green dress she had worn to the Italian restaurant had been made to torture him. This blue dress was even worse. When she took a step towards Robert and him, a slit revealed nearly her entire leg, all the way up to her thigh. She did not appear to be wearing any stockings, and those tall black heels made her leg seem to go on forever.

He honestly felt like his brain was malfunctioning. He couldn't remember what he was supposed to be doing. _Robert_ had to be the polite one.

“Hello again you two, enjoy the dinner?” Robert asked, using a tone of voice that was almost normal, now that they were within easy hearing distance.

“Thank you Robert, it was great. Sansa particularly liked the seafood.” Eddard was wearing an easy smile, obviously mellow from partaking in good food and wine.

“Hello Stannis.” Sansa smiled at him and fiddled with one of her earrings nervously. “I didn't see you before dinner started.” She attempted to sound nonchalant, but failed. She was clearly put out that she hadn't been able to talk to him before dinner. Stannis felt himself puff up a little at that, pleased that she had missed him.

“I was running late,” he explained apologetically.

“If he'd known you were here, he'd have been running at you, not running late!” Robert laughed uproariously.

Stannis sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose and looked briefly up at the ceiling. Must his brother be such a loudmouth?

“I'm glad you're here now,” Sansa said sweetly, ignoring Robert's teasing.

Stannis cleared his throat. He felt very uncomfortable talking to Sansa in front of Eddard and Robert. He felt like anything he said could be used against him in the future. Worse, he worried that Eddard was observing how Stannis had been looking at Sansa. How he was still looking at her. He did not think the hunger in his eyes would escape Eddard's notice.

Before Stannis could say or do anything further to incriminate himself, they were joined by a man who looked like he did not mind incriminating himself if it meant he could leer openly at Sansa. Stannis desperately hoped he did not look like that when he looked at her.

“Good evening. I thought I spotted Eddard and Catelyn Stark so I came over to say hello. Imagine my surprise to see that some stunning young creature seems to have taken Cat's place.” The man bowed slightly towards Sansa. “Petyr Baelish, at your service,” he introduced himself.

Stannis had met the smarmy arse a few times before, but never really had cause to talk to him much. Petyr preferred to deal with Robert. Stannis did not wish to change that.

“Oh, you're going to be my chancellor!” Sansa exclaimed in recognition. She bestowed one her beautiful smiles on the unworthy Baelish. Stannis felt absurdly jealous. He berated himself for it. Sansa could smile at anyone she wished to smile at. He was being ridiculous.

“Ah! You must be Sansa, then?” Petyr assumed, returning Sansa's smile with a predatory one.

“Yes, this is my daughter. Sansa Stark.”

Eddard made the formal introduction, and Petyr bent over Sansa's hand. Did he actually just kiss her hand? Stannis was surprised at the overwhelming protectiveness he was feeling. He did not want Petyr anywhere near Sansa. He was recalling some unsavoury rumours that had made the rounds in certain circles a few years ago about Petyr and some of his more attractive, female students. He did not think they had become very widespread, but Robert had told him. Robert always knew about things like that.

Stannis wondered how the man did it, if it was true. Did he use his position of power to get students to sleep with him? Or did some young ladies actually fall for his slimy charm? Stannis supposed that Petyr was not bad looking, but he certainly looked older than Stannis did. Baelish was already going grey at the temples, and his face was lined. Stannis knew that there were some pronounced frown lines on his own face, but they became nearly invisible when he relaxed his face completely (This rarely happened, but it was useful for when he was shaving).

Stannis hadn't been paying attention to the conversation, but was pulled into it when Petyr addressed him.

"So, are the stories true? Are you two dating?" Petyr was looking at Stannis, but glanced at Sansa when he spoke.

Stannis felt himself going rigid. Petyr Baelish had no business asking him about his relationship with Sansa.

"Yes," he answered through gritted teeth, glaring daggers at the man. Stannis knew it was one of his more intimidating looks. Hopefully it would make Baelish back down.

"Well, it's obvious what you see in him," Petyr mocked, turning to face Sansa. Stannis was disappointed that Baelish seemed immune to intimidation, and furious at being mocked. It didn't help that he was not yet quite sure about his relationship with Sansa, and didn't want anyone pointing out to her how unappealing he was.

Meanwhile, Eddard looked very uncomfortable with the topic of conversation, and Robert was uncharacteristically quiet. Typical, Stannis thought. When he really could have used Robert's talent for derailing conversations, the man stayed quiet as a mouse.

Petyr continued speaking to Sansa, changing the topic. "As you will be a student at my school this winter, I’d like to invite you on a private tour of the historical main building and the grounds. How would you like that?" Petyr was leaning towards Sansa, and speaking in a low, suggestive voice.

Stannis saw red. Was the man really trying to ask her out right in front of him? Before Stannis had a chance to say anything (or possibly punch him), Robert finally spoke up.

"Now, now Petyr! The girl hasn't even graduated yet. I'm sure she wants to talk of something other than school. This is supposed to be a fun night out!" Robert slapped Sansa on the back. She obviously hadn't been expecting it, and stumbled a little at the contact. Stannis glared at his brother. Couldn't he derail a conversation without manhandling his girlfr – Sansa?

"Of course. You're quite right." Petyr hid his irritation with Robert poorly. But his suave mask was back on after a second, and he turned to address Sansa again.

"Sansa, I'm sure you're bored to tears with all this talk. Would you like to dance?" He offered her his arm, showing his teeth in a shark-like smile.

Sansa did not move to accept the offered arm. Instead she looked at Stannis, an obvious plea for help in her eyes. Stannis felt immensely satisfied that she did not appear to want to dance with Petyr.

"Actually Petyr, I had already promised to dance the next set with Sansa," Stannis said, steel in his voice.

Baelish gave Stannis a calculating look. "Possessive, Stannis? I'd heard you two had been on one or two dates. Surely you aren't exclusive already?" Petyr dropped his arm, but did not move away from Sansa. There was a challenge in his features. He was daring Stannis to stake his claim and forcing him to do it in front of Eddard and Robert, damn him.

Eddard looked like he wanted to intervene, but was unsure as to how. Robert just looked like he was wishing he had some popcorn. He'd be unbearable about this, Stannis knew.

Stannis opened his mouth to answer Petyr's challenge, but no words came out. He hadn't discussed this with Sansa. It wouldn't be fair of him to claim her exclusively without talking to her first.

"Actually, yes. We are dating exclusively." Sansa came to his aid, speaking words that sounded like music to his ears. The jealousy he had been struggling with since Petyr had arrived turned into a feeling of triumph. He didn't care if she was only saying it to get rid of Petyr, she said she was _his._ It made him feel oddly powerful, and somehow very tall and important.

Petyr was looking at Sansa in surprise. Then he looked at Stannis. Stannis made sure to fix a cold look onto his face. Hopefully he didn't look _too_ smug.

"Well. Perhaps a later dance, then." Petyr was decidedly sour, but nodded politely at Sansa, her father and Robert before walking off to join another group of people. Stannis noticed that he had not merited a polite nod from Petyr. He smirked.

"Does Mr. Baelish know you and mum?" Sansa directed her question at her father, who looked like he couldn't quite believe what he had just witnessed. Eddard blinked a few times and frowned at Sansa before he responded hesitantly.

"I believe - I think your mother and Baelish were at school together." Eddard did not seem keen to elaborate. Unluckily for him, Robert was there to do it for him.

"That smarmy bastard has been sniffing around Cat's skirts since they were teenagers," Robert divulged, sneering, "she never gave him the time of day, of course. Much better taste in men than that!" Robert added bracingly when he saw Sansa's shocked expression.

Sansa shook her head as if to clear it. Then she looked at Stannis. How had she made her eyes look so much more... _more_? He wasn't an idiot, he knew she was wearing cosmetics to enhance her features, but her eyes were more open, more blue, more _everything._

"Well, shall we?" she asked him, hopeful.

Stannis was confused. What did she want him to do? Had she said? He'd been distracted by her eyes. He looked around helplessly.

"You did say you had promised to dance the first set with her," Robert reminded him, elbowing him cheerfully in the side. It really hurt. Stannis shot a nasty look at his brother, but then his brother's words registered, and Stannis forgot all about being annoyed with him.

He _had_ sort of promised to dance with Sansa. She looked ready to hold him to it. Stannis felt very nervous all of a sudden. He hadn't danced at all since his wedding. He'd been forced to take lessons as a child, just like Robert and Renly, but he didn't trust himself to do more than just the basics. What if Sansa expected him to be an accomplished dancer? Hadn't she taken ballet for years? He'd look ridiculously inept with her. How had he ended up in this situation?

It was too late to back out now. He had publicly said he would dance with her, and he did not go back on his word. Mostly he just could not stand to disappoint her -- not when she looked so hopefully at him. He took a step closer to her and stiffly offered her his arm. She took it without any hesitation, looking thrilled. If he hadn't been so busy drowning in despair at his lack of dancing capabilities, he would have felt quite flattered at her eagerness.

They walked to a fairly empty spot on the dance floor and got into position for the waltz. Sansa fit into his arms like she had been made for him, and she looked absolutely natural in a dancing pose. Stannis knew he probably looked wooden and out of his element. She smiled at him, obviously noticing his discomfort and wishing to put him at ease.

"Let's not go too fast, I'm not used to these heels." She whispered. Stannis knew she was attempting to give him an excuse to dance carefully, and he was flooded with feelings of relief and gratitude towards her. He nodded, hoping to convey a little of what he was feeling through his eyes. She met his gaze steadily. He was floored by the happiness he could read in her every feature. Could a simple dance with him make her this delighted?

Extraordinary.

Confidence thus bolstered, Stannis waited for the correct beat, and then led her a little stiffly into the basic steps of the waltz.

***

Sansa thought she must be dreaming. Stannis wasn't the best dancer in the world, but that was what made it so special. That he would step out of his comfort zone to dance with her, despite his unease, was almost too good to be true.

He looked so handsome in his dinner jacket and bow tie, too. When she had seen him arrive, her brain had stopped working for a minute. Although he clearly hadn't made as much of an effort for this evening as he had for their two dates. His short hair was barely combed, and he had stubble that was at least a day old. She didn't think it really detracted from his look. The stubble gave him a more rugged, disheveled appearance, and Sansa thought he would look downright sexy if he rolled up his sleeves and untied the bow tie and let it hang loose around his neck.

Now that she was dancing with him, she was glad that she had been able to use her unfamiliar shoes to give Stannis an excuse to go slowly. He was obviously very out of practice. She had done ballroom for years, as well as ballet, so she could have done the waltz in her sleep. Her ease on the dance floor helped things along, as she was very adept at following his lead. Stannis obviously felt it, since he relaxed more and more the longer they danced, trusting her to follow him no matter what.

When he seemed receptive to a little talking, she asked him a question that had been at the tip of her tongue for the past few minutes.

"Did you mind that I told Petyr we were exclusive?"

Sansa still couldn't quite believe how bold she had been to claim it. In front of her father and everything, too. But Stannis had been hesitating, and she had not wanted Mr. Baelish to get any ideas. Not that she honestly believed he had been hitting on her. He wouldn't do that in front of her father and the man she was dating, would he? There had just been something in his tone that she hadn't liked. As if he had been trying to put Stannis down, somehow. She hadn't been able to stand it.

Stannis’ dancing hadn't faltered at her question, but she could tell that it had been a close call. Perhaps she should have waited until they were off the dance floor to ask him about it...

"Did you mean it?" Stannis was looking intently at her, meeting her eyes and searching them for something. She did not know what.

"Yes. O-only if you want to, I mean," Sansa stammered, warmth rushing to her face. It was really very difficult to keep calm when he was looking at her like that.

"Then no. I did not mind," Stannis said, his lips twitching into that little smile of his. It made Sansa's heart leap. He wanted to be exclusive! Did that mean she was his girlfriend, now? She laughed nervously.

"I'm really looking forward to next weekend," she decided to change the subject, "I can't believe you won't tell me where we're going."

"I'm afraid you will just have to wait and see," Stannis told her, his face revealing nothing.

"You're insufferable." She smiled widely. She loved that he was being mysterious and keeping the plans for their next date a secret. She never would have expected him to do something like that. Not knowing what the plan was really heightened her anticipation. She adored a good surprise.

All too soon, their time on the dance floor came to an end. Sansa's feet were grateful for the chance to sit at one of the tables for a while, but she would have cheerfully ignored their suffering for a chance to dance with Stannis some more. He had made sure that she was returned to her father safely, and offered to bring her a drink. Those duties complete, he absconded to talk business with a group of serious men and women on the other end of the ballroom.

Aware that her father was watching, she had only asked for water. It was very refreshing, so she wasn't too annoyed at her father's 'only one glass of Champagne' rule.

Left to her own devices she began to wonder at the behaviour of her future chancellor, Petyr Baelish. Did he go around offering every future student he met a private tour of the University? Or was it just because he knew her mother? Was Robert right about Mr. Baelish liking her mother when they were younger? It was all so weird.

Sansa people-watched for a little while, sipping her water and resting her aching feet. Her mother's stilettos were gorgeous, but they were murder on her feet.

She noticed that Margaery's information about he celebrity couple had been correct. The actor that Loras had been so taken with looked like he was having the time of his life, surrounded by beautiful society women. His girlfriend was sitting at a nearby table, sulkily looking at something on her phone.

Her father extracted himself from the conversation he had been involved in and came to sit next to her.

"How are you doing, sweetheart?" he asked her kindly, "getting tired?"

"No, just resting my feet a little. Dancing in these shoes is a little hard." She smiled, attempting to wordlessly convince her father that she was fine, really.

"I'm sorry about Mr. Baelish, earlier. He can be a little aggressive. If I had seen him approach us, I would have tried to avoid speaking with him," her father said and grimaced.

"I would have had to speak with him at some point. He's going to be my chancellor," Sansa pointed out reasonably.

"You're right," her father sighed. Then he looked across the room at where Stannis was standing. "You and Stannis are exclusive now?" He raised an eyebrow at her.

She felt herself blushing again. Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded and then ducked her head. Talking to her dad about these things was embarrassing. Still, she was glad that he was taking an interest in her life. Having his attention was always so nice.

"You don't think you two are moving a little fast?" There was a worried crease between his eyebrows.

Sansa shrugged. "How fast are relationships supposed to go?" she asked. This was her first grown-up relationship, so she had no real basis for comparison. All she knew was that Stannis was not pressuring her to go any faster than she wanted to. If anything, he was trying to slow her down. She smiled at the thought.

Her father seemed a bit stumped by her question. His hand came up to rub the back of his head. He dropped it nearly immediately, frowning at his palm. It looked a little shiny and sticky with hair gel. Sansa smirked. Her father had obviously forgotten that he had slicked his hair back with the stuff.

"There's no real pace that they're supposed to move at, I suppose. Everyone is different. Just make sure that you're not going faster than you're comfortable with," her father finally said, the words coming out a little awkwardly. He placed a big hand (not the one that was sticky with hair gel) on her shoulder. The weight of it was warm and comforting.

"Don't worry, Dad. Stannis is a complete gentleman. He never makes me feel uncomfortable," Sansa reassured her father. She actually wished he was less of a gentleman, sometimes. Her favourite moments with Stannis had happened when he had slipped up and forgot to be a perfect gentleman for a few minutes. But her father didn't need to know that.

He squeezed her shoulder briefly before letting go. "I'm glad to hear it. Not that I would have expected anything less of Stannis." He smiled at Sansa and stood up from the table.

When he had walked out of hearing range, Sansa let out a strained little giggle. If her father only knew. She was certain that her father did not think stroking her thigh under her skirt, while kissing her silly, was gentlemanly.

At the far end of the ballroom there was a spacious balcony that overlooked the seafront. The doors were propped open to allow the dancers some fresh sea air, and people were wandering in and out in pairs, groups, or by themselves. Sansa walked out into the cool night, hoping to clear her head a little.

She walked to the far end of the balcony, trying to avoid the place where most of the men who had come out to smoke cigars were standing. She ended up finding a peaceful spot to the side of some handsome potted plants. It was quiet, and she was able to hear the sound of the ocean waves lapping at the shore if she listened hard enough.

Sansa leant against the marble baluster and thought about how lovely it would be if Stannis came and found her here. They might be able to steal a few kisses... She smiled as she imagined how the kisses would feel. Passionate like the ones in the Japanese garden, perhaps? Or lingering and sweet like in the car after the date at the Italian restaurant? Sansa wrapped her arms around herself, partly to keep herself warm, partly in response to her fantasy. She wished the arms around her belonged to Stannis. It really had been such a dream to dance with him. She imagined finding him and asking him to dance a little more. She did not think he would deny her if she asked him sweetly.

A voice floated over to Sansa's quiet little haven, bringing her back to reality.

"Did you see the look on his face when he danced with her?" the voice asked, sounding bitter and almost angry. "Besotted!" she added, voice high pitched with ridicule.

It was a voice Sansa recognised immediately. Cersei Lannister sounded like she was quite close by, but Sansa could not see her due to a particularly large potted plant.

“How could you tell?” a woman's voice Sansa did not recognise replied to Cersei's rant. It sounded amused. “His face held the same scowl as always.”

“I've known him for a long time. Trust me, that's how he looked when Selyse first got her hooks in him.” Cersei sounded very convincing.

Sansa realised that Cersei had to be talking about Stannis. Selyse was not a common name, after all. She listened all the harder for it, her guilt over eavesdropping disappearing.

"And that smug little tart was actually acting like she was pleased to be dancing with the miserable bastard. What a joke!" Cersei spat.

"Why do you care?" The second woman's voice sounded bored now - as if the conversation had been going on for longer than she had patience for. Her voice was deep and sultry. Sansa felt it was the voice of woman who was very practiced in the art of seduction.

"You know Stannis ruined my marriage. I can't stand the idea of him to riding happily into the sunset with some young, pretty little thing. He doesn't deserve happiness after what he did. It's especially intolerable because he's panting for the bitch who mistreated my Joffrey." Cersei's words were dripping in pure loathing.

Sansa couldn't believe what she was hearing. Cersei was upset at her relationship with Stannis? Stannis ruined Cersei's marriage? _Sansa_ mistreated _Joffrey?_

Cersei was completely nuts.

"It's not like you need to worry. Stannis will sabotage this eventually. You know what he's like. He couldn't keep a woman happy even if he looked like Loras Tyrell," the unfamiliar voice scoffed.

Sansa was starting to get really angry at these two women. What did they know about Stannis, anyway? She was certain that almost no one in his life had ever bothered to really get to know him. He was keeping her quite happy. Not every woman cared more about mansions and servants than true mutual appreciation and affection. Just because Stannis hadn't had a good marriage with Selyse, it didn't mean that he didn't have a lot to offer.

Cersei was laughing cruelly, clearly agreeing with the unfamiliar woman's assessment of Stannis.

"You're right, perhaps the most amusing thing to do is to allow this to play out," Cersei sighed, the laughter fading from her voice.

"But if he doesn't sabotage this little dalliance with the Stark girl on his own, I'm going to do it for him," she added, cold certainty emanating from every word.

Sansa felt a chill that had nothing to do with the night air, and shuddered involuntarily. What would Cersei try to do if things continued to develop the way they had so far between Sansa and Stannis? She couldn't imagine what the woman might come up with, but she was sure it wouldn't be anything pleasant.

When she was sure Cersei and her friend had left, she hurried inside. She wanted to see Stannis and reassure herself that he was fine, and that Cersei wasn't doing anything to him.

Sansa was also very tempted to try to ask him about Cersei's comment about Stannis having ruined her marriage. She was sure it was about as true as the idea that she had been the one to mistreat Joffrey, but she was still curious about how Cersei could have reached such an absurd conclusion. Sansa knew she should wait for a better opportunity than she was likely to have tonight to have that conversation with him, however.

She looked over at him. He was still involved in deep conversation with some businesspeople and thankfully Cersei was nowhere near. Sansa thought it might be best if she didn't bother him unless Cersei looked like she might try to talk to him. She knew that Stannis was trying to get some work done and would not appreciate being interrupted unless the reason was good.

She would have liked to keep a watchful eye on Stannis for a while longer, but her concentration was rudely disrupted by a man who sidled up to her and spoke.

"There you are," he said into her ear, "the ballroom is brighter and more beautiful now that you have returned." Petyr Baelish was standing much closer than Sansa was comfortable with, and speaking in that low voice that was probably supposed to sound seductive. His eyes were glinting strangely, and although he was smiling at her she couldn't help but feel it was insincere.

She noticed that Mr. Baelish had waited until she was standing by herself, far from her father and Stannis. It made her feel uncomfortably trapped. She would have to fend for herself.

"Thank you, Mr. Baelish," Sansa answered him shortly, but as politely as she could. It would not do to offend her future chancellor before she even stepped onto the school grounds. She tried to sound neutral, hoping that if she did not sound flirtatious he would stop his attempts to be seductive.

No such luck. "Now that your jailer isn't here, you and I can speak freely," he all but purred.

Sansa stared at him. Her jailer? What on earth did he mean by that?

"Do you know you are the spitting image of your mother when she was your age? We were quite fond of each other once." His lips were inches from her ear, and she could feel his breath when he exhaled. It was warm, moist, and smelled strongly of brandy. Sansa suppressed a grimace and wondered if there was a polite way to take a big step away from him.

"Is that so?" she responded, shifting her pose and using the movement to lean away from him as much as she could.

"Yes. Unfortunately your father came along and snatched her up." He smiled. It was an oddly cold smile. "And it appears that I have come too late to enter myself into the race for your affections." He gave an affected laugh, as if he were simply joking, but Sansa could tell he was actually very serious.

Sansa thought it was sick that he was interested in trying to use her to make up for the fact that her mother hadn't wanted him.

She forced herself to smile at his 'joke'. She couldn't bring herself to say anything.

"Now, how about a dance? Surely Stannis hasn't asked for this one as well?" Mr. Baelish offered his arm again. Sansa tried to surreptitiously cast about for rescue, but there was no one near them who could help her. She took a deep breath, forced another smile, and took the proffered arm.

Mr. Baelish was a much more accomplished dancer than Stannis but his touch made Sansa's skin crawl and he held her more closely than she would have preferred. He did not take her stilettos into account, and often led her much faster than she could gracefully handle. If it hadn't been for her years of training, she probably would have stumbled.

Mr. Baelish talked as they danced, but Sansa was concentrating too hard on keeping herself from breaking an ankle to listen properly, much less answer. This did not seem to matter much to Mr. Baelish. He almost seemed to prefer her silence. He had a slightly glazed look in his eyes, and from the things she did catch him saying, he was reminiscing about his school days with her mother.

Finally, someone noticed her plight and came to her rescue. She was surprised when it was Robert Baratheon, not her father or Stannis, who tapped Mr. Baelish on the shoulder and asked to cut in, but she was grateful all the same.

Robert's style of dancing resembled his brother's. Mainly simple steps, and not too fast, but he seemed more sure of himself and more practiced. He held her at a respectful distance, and did not grasp at her in the disconcerting way Mr. Baelish had.

"All right, there?" he asked her, sounding his cheerful self but with a note of concern.

"I'm fine. Thank you for cutting in. I didn’t really like dancing with Mr. Baelish," Sansa admitted, giving Robert a grateful smile.

"Hah! That doesn't surprise me," Robert barked, amused, "and you're welcome. Though it's no great chore to rescue a beautiful damsel," he added with a wink. There was a kindness in his face that Sansa sometimes glimpsed in Stannis' features as well. Both men tried to hide their kind hearts. Robert hid behind his loud personality and brash humour, and Stannis hid behind his scowl. Sansa supposed that in their world, kindness could easily be taken for weakness.

They danced in silence for a little while, until they passed close by the part of the room where Stannis was holding court. Stannis noticed them dancing and met Sansa's eyes. He looked vaguely surprised to see his brother dancing with her. She smiled reassuringly at Stannis, trying to tell him without words that she was fine. Robert observed the exchanged looks.

"I hope my brother is treating you well?"

Sansa could tell Robert was inviting her to confide in him. Whatever information he was fishing for, she doubted Stannis would want her to disclose it.

"Of course. He's been wonderful," she replied sincerely. What could Robert be after?

"Ned and I were surprised that you'd look at him twice. He's not really what most girls your age go for, is he?" Robert chuckled. He didn't sound cruel like Cersei when she had dismissed Stannis, but Sansa was still a little annoyed with him for thinking Stannis was unattractive to girls her age. Objectively she knew he might be right, but she _liked_ Stannis. She didn't care that most girls wouldn't bother to see past the scowl.

"I think he's very good looking, actually," Sansa met Robert's eyes defiantly. "And as I said, he treats me wonderfully," she added, since her attraction to Stannis had as much to do with his behaviour towards her as his looks.

Robert smiled indulgently. "I meant no offense! I'm glad you two hit it off. I haven't seen Stannis look this close to happy since he was starting out with Selyse." He paused and glanced at his brother. Stannis was standing very still, following their progress across the dance floor with his eyes. Robert looked back at Sansa. "You even got him to dance."

"He doesn't do that often?" Sansa asked, wanting to confirm her suspicion. Based on how he'd moved with her earlier, she was sure he hardly ever danced.

"I don't think I've seen him dance since his wedding," Robert confessed, "but he looked tempted enough at the idea of having you in his arms. I don't blame him. You Stark women are irresistible." Robert winked at her, but there was nothing suggestive about his words. Sansa knew he must be referring to his past with her aunt Lyanna. She did blush a little at the idea that she was irresistible to Stannis, but she ducked her head and hoped Robert wouldn't notice.

Soon after the dance came to an end. Robert led Sansa to her father's table, and stayed with them for a little while. Then he was off talking to another group of people.

Sansa danced a few more times. Once to rescue her father (and herself, if she was honest) from Cersei, and once with a very handsome man who introduced himself as Oberyn Martell. Sansa was a little dazed in his arms. He made polite conversation with her, and Sansa made all the appropriate replies - even though she was a little distracted by his sexy accent. She had rarely been this close to such a good-looking man. Shame he was married, Sansa thought. Or she would have aimed Margaery at him.

Her dance with Oberyn seemed to incite Stannis to finish up his business talk quickly, because he was at her side the second the dance finished. Oberyn bowed slightly to Stannis and passed Sansa into his arms as the orchestra announced the next dance would be the last of the evening.

Stannis seemed to realise a moment too late that his intentions to escort Sansa from the dance floor had been mistaken as a wish to dance the last dance with her. She thought she really should take offense at the dismay and resignation that she saw in his eyes, but she was pretty sure that those feelings were only there because Stannis didn't like dancing. Not because he didn't like her. She knew he'd go through with the dance regardless.

Her assumption proved correct when he huffed out an annoyed breath and tightened his grip on her hand and her shoulder blade in determination.

"We don't have to dance if you don't want to," she whispered to him, trying to hide her amusement.

"I want to," he said stubbornly, glaring at Oberyn Martell's back.

"I'm glad. I had hoped to dance with you again tonight." Sansa smiled at him and used her thumb to stroke Stannis' hand lightly. She was attempting to put him at ease and make sure he knew with whom she really wanted to spend her time.

It worked. Stannis unclenched a little, stopped glaring and squeezed her hand gently. He was now focusing entirely on her, and when the music started, he led her confidently. She was grateful that he was mindful of her aching feet and didn't force her to go faster than she was able to.

"Have you - ah - had a good time tonight?" Stannis asked a little awkwardly after a while. Sansa had been enjoying the feeling of being in his arms again, and hadn't felt the need to distract him with conversation. But she was happy that he wanted to talk, and flattered that he was attempting pleasantries that did not come to him easily. She knew it was only for her sake.

"It's been... interesting," Sansa hesitated. She did not think this was the right time to bring up Cersei or Mr. Baelish. "I'll tell you all about it on our mysterious date next week," Sansa promised. It was only fair to keep him in the dark until then. After all, he was making her wait, too.

Stannis raised both eyebrows, but did not argue.

"How about you, did your business things go well?" Sansa asked in return, genuinely interested. She knew the last big event of the season was often used to make plans and arrangements that could be of some importance for the coming winter.

"Oddly, they went much better than they do usually. The men were uncommonly interested in what I had to say, and a few of them kept giving me strange looks and clapping me on the shoulder." Stannis wrinkled his forehead in confusion.

Margaery's words about how Stannis would want to 'show her off' came to Sansa's mind. Obviously, it hadn't occurred to Stannis that he could use his relationship with Sansa to gain status with the other men. He didn't even seem to understand that it was happening without him purposefully trying.

Sansa wasn't sure if she should try to explain this, or if she should leave it be. Wouldn't it make her sound incredibly self-important if she told Stannis the reason he was being treated like one of the popular boys at school was because he was dating her? Maybe she should try to give him a hint, and see if he wouldn't work it out on his own? He was smart enough, he probably just didn't have a lot of experience with the kind of weird respect men could get for dating attractive women.

Sansa thought it was a little gross that men would high-five each other for 'scoring' with pretty girls, and the prettier and younger the better. Why couldn't they congratulate each other on being in committed, respectful relationships with intelligent and suitable partners?

_So immature._

"Maybe they were trying to congratulate you on something?" Sansa suggested noncommittally. Perhaps this would be enough to get him thinking about what was happening in his life that was worth congratulating him for. Starting a new relationship had to count.

"Perhaps, but why wouldn't they just come out and say it, then?" Stannis seemed to be thinking it over intently. Sansa smiled at him, trying to hide her amusement. Something in her eyes must have triggered his brain into making the connection. She could see the understanding dawning on his face. His eyes widened slightly, and he glanced at the group of men and back at Sansa. Almost as soon as the understanding came, the scowl came back in full force. Though she swore she saw a red tinge appear on his cheeks too.

"They think I'm sleeping with you," Stannis said eventually, jaw clenched, danger in his voice.

Sansa felt her cheeks heat up at his words, but she held his gaze and gave a helpless little shrug. "You can't control what they think, Stannis," she said softly, trying to coax him into relaxing again.

"I should have recognised their behaviour. I've seen it often enough when my brother gets caught with some chit in his office." Stannis grimaced. He did not seem at all impressed with this method of gaining status and approval among his peers.

Sansa had to clamp down on the wild urge to hug him for it.

"I can't say I approve, but if it helps your business dealings, I don't really mind," Sansa said quietly. She did mind a little. She minded that she lived in a world where men behaved like that. But she couldn't bring herself to be annoyed with Stannis for benefiting from it. He hadn't set out to.

Stannis looked ready to argue, but the music was swelling triumphantly and the end of the dance was nearing. His face screwed up in concentration and he led her into a twirl he hadn't tried before. She followed him effortlessly.

It was a perfect end to the evening, Sansa thought.

There were a lot of couples on the floor, and they all applauded the orchestra politely before starting to make their way off the dance floor.

Stannis returned her to her father's care, and kissed her hand briefly in goodbye as he had after their first date. It was much better than when Mr. Baelish had taken the same liberty. Even though Stannis did it a little awkwardly, there was sincerity in the gesture. It set the butterflies in her stomach off into frantic fluttering.

The butterflies still hadn't quite settled down by the time her head hit the pillow in her bed.


	9. Giselle

Stannis paced back and forth outside the door to Sansa's home. He hadn't yet knocked as he was trying to calm himself down a little first. Tonight he would be taking Sansa out on their third official date and he was planning something special for her. After her confession at the Japanese restaurant about having dreamt of becoming a prima ballerina, Stannis had got the idea that she might enjoy going to the ballet. He wouldn't be taking her to Moscow to see the Russians dance, but King's Landing was home to the Westeros Ballet Company, and they were considered to be quite good.

Stannis could easily get tickets to most cultural events because Baratheon Industries always donated generously to the arts. The three Baratheon brothers did this to honour their late mother. She had been an avid lover of all the performing arts, as well as a frequent guest at most of the art galleries in King's Landing. Robert and Stannis had never been that keen on going with their mother to the theatre, the opera or the ballet. Renly would have been keen, but when their mother had been alive he had been much too young to go. Still, Robert and Stannis had gone along every now and then. Their father had insisted, and it had made their mother so happy. Stannis was very glad to have gone with her sometimes and if he had known that he would lose his parents while they were still in the prime of their life, he probably would have accompanied her more often.

In any case, Stannis did not really mind seeing the occasional ballet or opera, though he would never be a true connoisseur. He did not really make time for it unless there was something Shireen wanted to see. She seemed to have inherited some of her grandmother's interest in the arts.

Tonight he had tickets to the last show of the spring season, a rendition of _Giselle_. He had seen it once before and had been impressed with the dancing. He thought the story might appeal to Sansa, as well. It was about a peasant girl who fell in love with a nobleman in disguise as a commoner. Of course, being a ballet someone had to die from a broken heart, and it ended up being Giselle. She found out that the man she loved was too highborn for her, so she died of grief. Then there was something about people being thrown into rivers, and vengeful spirits and whatnot. Stannis couldn't quite recall.

Stannis wondered why so many ballets and operas were tragic. Perhaps he should scrap this plan and wait until Christmas? The Nutcracker was a much happier piece.

No, he was being ridiculous. Sansa had wanted to be a ballerina, she had to know most of the popular pieces were tragic. She wouldn't read anything into it.

Stannis knocked on the door.

“I thought you'd never work up the nerve,” Arya Stark said when she swung the door almost immediately. She wore a teasing smile, and some very dirty clothes. She had obviously been outside. Perhaps rolling around in the mud? That was the only activity Stannis could think of that would cause that level of dirt to cling to clothes.

He tried to look unconcerned and dignified, but he was a little embarrassed that the younger Stark daughter had witnessed his pacing.

“Good evening, Miss Stark. I'm here to collect Sansa,” he said formally, electing to ignore Arya's comment. Hopefully she would go away and not tell anyone.

The little girl rolled her eyes, left the door open and disappeared into the house.

“Stannis is here!” she announced for the entire neighbourhood to hear. Stannis clenched his jaw in annoyance.

Soon Catelyn came to the door, wearing casual clothes and a welcoming expression.

“Stannis! How lovely to see you.” She kissed the air next to each of his cheeks. He stood very still while she did it. “Sansa isn't quite ready. Why don't you come inside for a minute?”

Stannis was surprised. Sansa had never made him wait before. What was she up to?

He reluctantly took a step inside, and Catelyn shut the door behind him. “Would you like to sit down? Anything to drink?” Catelyn asked, ever the gracious hostess.

“No thank you,” he declined, trying to make his rough voice sound polite. He feared it came out clipped instead.

“I'm sure she'll be down in just a moment. I think she was just looking for her shoes,” Catelyn said reassuringly.

Catelyn had barely finished her sentence when Sansa appeared at the top of the stairs.

Stannis had been sure he was now used to how beautiful Sansa looked. But somehow she still made him forget where he was, and that her mother was standing next to him. He felt himself take an involuntary step towards Sansa. It was as if his body was magnetically drawn to her.

Stannis allowed his eyes to rake over her form just once, and then he resolutely looked at her face. Not really a chore, as Stannis was sure he had never seen a more beautiful face than Sansa's, but it would be rude to not at least _glance_ at the dress she was wearing. She'd gone to the trouble of putting it on, after all.

It was a very dark, almost black, red colour. It drew attention to her flawless, ivory skin and the cut looked very classic to Stannis. He was certainly no expert on fashion, but the dress did not strike him as unusual. It was really very simple. Thin straps, low cut, knee length. And he was certainly not having any trouble keeping his eyes away from her cleavage. At all.

It was just--Stannis was sure there had never been so... _much_ of it before.

She had reached the bottom of the stairs and was standing in front of him. He breathed in slowly, enjoying the scent that always seemed to envelop her. If he was forced to describe it, he'd say it was sweet without being cloying, fresh, light and uniquely _Sansa_.

“I'm sorry I kept you waiting, I couldn't find my shoes. _Someone_ had been using them to – ” Sansa cut herself off, took a deep breath and continued, “never mind that,” she gave him a dazzling smile, “shall we go?”

Sansa had such a beautiful smile. He thought it was bizarre that she always seemed so happy to see him. He blinked a few times, feeling almost as if he'd accidentally looked at the sun. She had asked him a question. He should probably say something.

“Yes,” he croaked, voice rougher than usual. He cleared his throat. “Yes,” he repeated, more decisively. He turned around and opened the front door for her. Stannis had forgotten Catelyn was even there, but she reminded them of her presence when she told them to have a good time.

“Thanks, I'm sure we will!” Sansa chirped, and breezed out the door he was still holding.

Stannis nodded at Catelyn and followed Sansa outside. She hadn't gone far, and Stannis offered her his arm for support as they walked the short distance to his car. She seemed grateful for it, as she was once again wearing impossibly high heels. Stannis was glad for his height, since Sansa was already rather tall. If he had been of a slighter build, Sansa would tower over him in heels such as these.

Stannis had never quite understood why women insisted on making themselves so helpless when they dressed up. High heels would prevent them from getting anywhere quickly. (What if there was a fire?) Tight dresses restricted their range of movement even more. On top of everything, they usually neglected to wear proper jackets or coats. This didn't really matter in summer, but he had noticed that a lot of young women stubbornly left proper outdoor wear at home when they were dressing up, even in winter. 

Very irresponsible.

However, the impractical footwear meant that Sansa was pressed up to him, holding his arm. Not an objectionable state of affairs. Perhaps the strange fashion choices were all highly thought out to allow for more touching? Stannis hoped that was the case. Otherwise the dressy clothes only served to make women into victims that were easy to overcome.

Stannis helped Sansa into his car and soon they were heading for the King's Landing Opera House. Though Sansa didn't know that.

“You look very handsome tonight,” Sansa complimented, after they had been on the road for a while.

Stannis grimaced. He had completely neglected to say anything about how she looked. He was terrible at this. He opened his mouth to return the compliment, but snapped it shut when she started speaking again.

“I can't remember if I told you how good you looked at the benefit last week, too. I don't think I had ever seen you in anything more dressy than a suit before then. I really liked it. Very James Bond.” 

Sansa sounded rather flirtatious if he was not mistaken. Stannis found himself wanting to say something witty and flirtatious in response, but his brain was drawing a horrifying blank.

“Did you know our picture is on the event's website?” she asked, filling the silence for him.

Renly had sent him a link to the picture, so Stannis was aware of it. It was one of many taken that night. The pictures were meant to prove how successful the event had been at attracting rich, powerful and famous people. His picture had appeared in similar photo galleries before, but usually standing among other business people. Not in the middle of dancing with the most beautiful woman at the event. It has been a surprisingly satisfying change.

He'd saved the picture to his computer, and had been sneaking looks at it frequently. Not to look at himself – he looked rather serious and stiff in it – but to admire the happy smile on Sansa's face, and how her dress flared out to reveal rather a lot of leg.

Stannis nodded, confirming that he had indeed seen the picture.

“I'm so glad someone was taking pictures, I hadn't thought to take any before I left the house – My mother usually thinks of doing that – and I hardly ever get to dress up quite that much!” Sansa paused to look at him. He felt her eyes on him, and tried to appear focused on the road.

“Mostly I'm glad to have a picture of us together,” she shyly admitted.

Stannis stole a glance at her. She was blushing prettily and looking straight ahead. (Too shy to look at him?) He really should try to say something.

“The picture hardly did you justice,” he finally managed. 

It was the truth. It wasn't a bad picture at all, but it couldn't compare to having her in front of him.

Stannis was still staring at the road ahead, but in his peripheral vision he could tell that Sansa had ducked her head to hide her deepening blush.

“Oh, I mean – um,” she let out a breath that could have been a very short, nervous laugh, “thank you.”

Sansa was actually flustered by his attempt at a compliment. He felt lucky that she was pleased with his rusty flirting skills – limited as they were, but still wished he could do better. She deserved better.

“So, can you finally tell me where we're going?” Sansa changed the subject, “I don't even know if what I'm wearing is appropriate!” she teasingly scolded. 

“What you're wearing is fine.” Stannis was unable to resist a quick look at her cleavage. It was only a second, and then he looked at her eyes. Of course she noticed. A knowing smile touched her lips.

His face felt warm. Was the A/C working properly?

“I'm glad you like it.” There was something very indulgent in her tone that made Stannis feel like she was actually saying - 'Look all you want.'

His knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. Now his neck was warm too. He stared resolutely at the car in front. Its left tail light was out. The driver should really stop and have that fixed.

Sansa seemed content to quietly listen to the radio for the next few minutes. Stannis was relieved. It gave him time to collect his thoughts and think of something to say that wasn't completely useless.

“Unless you have any objections, my idea for the evening was for us to see the Westeros Ballet Company perform _Giselle_.”

Stannis thought he ought to give her a chance to raise objections before they arrived at their destination. He glanced at her and back at the road in rapid succession, trying to observe her reaction and drive responsibly at the same time.

Her eyes had widened in surprise, and she was watching him openly. Her lips parted, first into a little 'o' of surprise, and then widened to accommodate the most euphoric expression he had ever seen her wear. It made Stannis certain that sitting through _Giselle_ again was already worth it.

“Oh my _Gods_ , Stannis!” she exclaimed, ecstatic. 

Her words went straight to his groin, having triggered some primal part of his brain. A part of his brain that very much wanted to hear her say that phrase under different _naked, sweaty_ circumstances.

Stannis forced himself to exhale slowly through his nose and think of Robert in his swimmers. Now was not the time.

“ _Giselle_ is my favourite ballet! I asked Mum if she could take me this season, but she was too busy,” Sansa continued, enraptured, “I haven't seen it on stage since I was thirteen.”

Stannis felt very proud to have picked something she liked so much. He hadn't even needed help from Davos this time. Although Davos had been the one to suggest the French bistro he was going to take Sansa to after the ballet. Stannis was not a big fan of French restaurants, but bistros tended to serve simpler foods than the restaurants that only served a series of tiny artistic portions, with unpronounceable names and unclear origins.

Stannis asked Sansa why _Giselle_ was her favourite ballet, and Sansa enthusiastically explained how the dancing in the piece was amazing, and how it was one of the most sought after dance roles for ballerinas. She also told him, blushing a little, that she liked the romance of the story, and particularly how Giselle saves the man she loves from being killed by vengeful spirits. 

“Even though she's already dead herself, she manages to prevent the man she loved from suffering the same fate. I really like that the power of her love saves him, even though she died.”

Stannis liked listening to her go on about it. Her voice was almost breathless with happiness, her features animated, eyes sparkling. He really wished he could observe her without having to watch the road as well.

The subject of Giselle lasted them all the way to Highgarden, and led to Sansa quizzing Stannis about the other ballets he had seen, as well as operas and famous plays. They discussed what their opinions had been of various shows that they had both seen, and Sansa expressed her jealousy at the amount of pieces Stannis had seen that she desperately wanted to see.

Stannis let Sansa do most of the talking, and stated his opinions succinctly. He had never got into the habit of really analysing the performances he went to. He usually just sat down, watched and listened, applauded, and went home. Some stories were more enjoyable than others, some performers more talented. It was rare for him to be truly moved by anything he saw on stage. That would require a level of immersion that he didn't often experience. Mostly because he did not strive for it.

Sansa was the opposite, and Stannis found it fascinating how she spoke of becoming absorbed in the lives of the characters, identifying with their triumphs and sorrows, being moved to tears by particularly beautiful performances, and allowing herself to be swept up in the spectacle of it all.

Certainly it seemed a more enriching way to approach the arts, Stannis admitted to himself as he listened to Sansa try to explain the depth of what she'd felt the first time she'd seen _Swan Lake_.

Perhaps he would attempt to see this evening's performance through Sansa's eyes.

When they arrived at the King's Landing Opera House, a large and opulent building, with architecture that put you in mind of the Palais Garnier in Paris, Stannis asked Sansa if she needed anything (a snack?) before they took their seats.

“I'm too excited to eat or do anything else, let's go inside!” Sansa looked like she would have liked to get up the stairs to the main entrance much faster than her shoes and decorum would allow. 

Stannis enjoyed having her on his arm, and noticed more than one jealous look thrown his way. It was a new experience for him and not one he was entirely sure he liked. More often he noticed purely covetous glances aimed at Sansa, which he definitely did not like. He found he minded it marginally less when the looks came from men nearer his own age, but one of the onlookers appeared to be getting close to _seventy_. He thought it was highly inappropriate. He scowled at everyone he caught looking.

Once they were inside, Stannis offered to get Sansa the program and she joyfully accepted. Stannis was slightly bemused at how easy it was to please her. If Selyse had been this eager to be happy with everything he did, he might still be married. It wasn't in his nature to make grand romantic gestures like Selyse had wanted. Well, mainly she had wanted expensive romantic gestures. Stannis frowned at the thought.

They found their premium box seats with ease, an attendant all but bowing them into them. Stannis was used to this sort of behaviour, ridiculous as it was, but Sansa looked a little flustered at the deferential treatment. Despite her embarrassment, she thanked the attendant sweetly. Selyse would never have even acknowledged the person, Stannis thought. 

He wished he had not had Cersei as a sister-in-law when he had first fallen for Selyse. Perhaps if Robert had married Lyanna Stark, Stannis would not have thought Selyse to be kind and demure. That was Cersei's gift. To make any woman appear gentle when compared to her. Now that Stannis was experiencing Sansa's genuine kindheartedness, he saw clearly how Selyse had been putting on an act from the very start.

Sansa was looking through the program and pointing out some of the artists she recognised to him. He knew some of the names, others he was sure he'd never heard. Stannis did his best to pay attention to everything Sansa was saying, but felt himself lose concentration sometimes. His eyes felt the need to focus on Sansa's lower lip, and convince his brain that his entire mental faculties were needed to properly appreciate its full, lush pout. How it was temptingly stained a deep, wine red and glistening in the dim light of the theatre. That bottom lip was just begging to be bitten gently, worried at and kissed until it was swollen and plump. And her lips would look so perfect wrapped around his...

Stannis closed his eyes briefly, cutting off his disastrous train of thought. He wished he had thought to buy a program of his own to keep on his lap.

Obviously, the attempt to curb his physical desire for Sansa by taking the edge off in the shower earlier, was proving unsuccessful. Stannis felt more than a little disgusted at his suddenly insatiable appetite. He, who had barely missed sex when he stopped sleeping with Selyse. He, who had never understood Robert's interest in chasing after every strumpet he laid eyes on. What was happening to him? He hadn't needed to spend this much time showering since he'd been a hormonally charged teenager.

Stannis gritted his teeth, ruthlessly suppressing the urge to pick Sansa up and carry her off to a more secluded location. He was not a damn caveman.

He forced his attention back to Sansa's words.

“... talented at the difficult jumps, but I always had a preference for him. Especially when he works with her,” Sansa concluded, and Stannis silently cursed himself not listening properly to the first half of what she'd said. Before he could respond, Sansa noticed that the lights had dimmed.

“Oh, I think it's starting!” Sansa pulled out her phone and quickly turned it off. (Stannis wished his lust could be turned off so easily.) He had turned his own phone off before he had picked Sansa up, not wanting to be interrupted while he was with her.

The ballet was magnificent. Or at least, Sansa clearly thought so. Stannis spent more time observing her reactions to the dancing than looking at the show itself. She took absolutely no notice of his eyes, her attention absolutely fixed on the stage. She even gasped a few times, and always applauded enthusiastically whenever the audience was expected to. At the end of the first act, she was moved to tears. 

Stannis was enchanted. None of the people he knew had ever responded to a show in this way. Perhaps his mother had, when she was young. He found himself hoping so. Shireen certainly came close, sometimes. Although, Stannis realised, to his shame he had never paid as much attention to his daughter's face as he had just paid to Sansa's. He resolved to do better next time he took Shireen to a show.

They spent the intermission walking aimlessly to stretch their legs, enjoying the beautiful interior of the opera house. There was a lot of marble and a fair number of huge paintings in gilded frames to please the eye. Sansa had tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow - a touch he had come to greedily expect whenever they walked together - as she switched between analysing the dancing they had been watching, and thanking Stannis profusely for bringing her to see it. Stannis in his turn encouraged her to talk about the show, enjoying her enthusiasm, but told her that it took no effort to bring her, so she shouldn't thank him quite so much. Secretly he allowed himself a guilty moment to revel in her flattering gratitude, before getting himself back under control.

The second act of the ballet passed in much the same way as the first, with Stannis hungrily taking in Sansa's every reaction, trying to keep from slipping into fantasies where they were alone, and he could kiss every inch of her skin, where her expressive eyes would react to his ministrations with all of the emotion she revealed as she watched the dancers, and her gasps would be due to the pleasure she would feel at his hands, and _not_ due to a particularly impressive ballet. 

Gods he wanted to touch her. His fingers tingled with the memory of touching the skin of her upper thigh, and visions of her in that green bikini tormented him. He should have allowed her to keep straddling him for much longer in that hot tub. He should have memorised the feel of all that wet skin against his. He should have allowed her to take things as far as she wanted, to hell with talking to Eddard first.

Stannis lost control of his gaze and it slipped down to look at her chest again. The dress was remarkably revealing without being scandalous. If Sansa had been more top-heavy, it would not have worked at all. But things being as they were, she was able to show quite an amount of skin without being crass. Thus he was able to enjoy the sight of quite a lot of unblemished skin. His eyes followed the curve of her breasts, enjoying their rise and fall with every breath. The fabric became strained and taut when she gasped at something a dancer did on stage.

Stannis gripped the armrest of his seat very tightly.

When he realised his eyes had been lingering for much too long, he looked up at Sansa's face again. She met his eyes.

He swallowed convulsively, feeling absurdly as if he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Did she have some kind of sixth sense that alerted her when he dared look below her neck? She hadn't noticed him staring at her face all through the ballet, but _now_ she caught him? Typical. He grimaced, and felt his face warm up when she gave him that same knowing smile as when she'd caught him before. The smile came with a strange, encouraging look that seemed to say – 'I wore it for you, I don't mind.'

But that was probably just his wishful interpretation. Even if it was what she really meant, he couldn't just abandon all propriety and openly stare at her chest like a dimwit with drool on his chin. He had some standards.

He kept his eyes fixed obstinately on the ballet for the rest of the second act. Trying to will his embarrassment and rampant lust away. Thankfully the ballet was coming to an end. His refusal to look at Sansa was testing his resolve, and he felt curiously bereft at being unable to enjoy her reactions to the dancers.

When the applause died down Sansa seemed in no hurry to leave the relative privacy of their box. Likely she needed a moment to compose herself, as the final moments of the ballet had her in tears again. Thankfully, she seemed prepared for anything, and was pulling paper handkerchiefs from a dainty packet to dry her eyes. Stannis hadn't thought to bring anything like that. He had never imagined himself as the type of man who would pull out a handkerchief for a distressed lady, but the idea was not unappealing when the lady in question was Sansa. She made him want to be like the knights of old – chivalrous and gallant. Riding to her rescue on a white horse, receiving her favours and winning her love.

Stannis shook his head to clear it. He was no knight in shining armour. No woman would ever look at him and see that. It was optimistic to the point of foolishness to imagine that he could ever win her love. He brought a hand up to rub at a temple and squeezed his eyes shut.

When he opened them, Sansa looked perfectly presentable (beautiful...) and was looking at him expectantly.

He cleared his throat. “I thought we might go to a bistro near here, you must be hungry by now?”

Sansa brightened and nodded at him. “That sounds lovely, Stannis. Thank you.”

The way she said his name always _did things to him_. It was as if she relished saying it. Did she practise in order to get that slightly breathy note in there? No one ever said his name like she did. Like it was a word to be whispered in the bedroom.

Gods he wanted her to say his name in his bedroom. Repeatedly.

It was a difficult task to make it through the throng of people all leaving the King's Landing Opera House. The time it took and the annoyance of it all cooled his ardour considerably. When they arrived at the little French bistro where he had made reservations, Stannis almost felt like he could converse with Sansa like a normal human being – without staring at her stupidly and thinking about her in terms of attractive body parts.

It was a clean, airy sort of place. The tables were small, but relatively widely spaced. This was good, as Stannis disliked feeling as if his fellow diners could easily listen in on his conversation with Sansa. When they sat down, their knees touched under the table. Stannis thought that was good too, and he assumed Sansa didn't mind. Otherwise she probably would have moved her knees to the side.

The menu was very simple, and they had decided what to order within a few short minutes of sitting down. The waiters were very _French_ , but made themselves understandable enough. Sansa tore into the sliced baguette in the bread basket as soon as it arrived. Stannis took his time with his own slice, spreading it very thinly with butter. He was just taking his first bite when Sansa, having sated the worst of her hunger, started to speak.

“Thank you again for bringing me to the ballet tonight. This is the best surprise I've ever had!” 

Stannis had already responded to her thanks a few times. He was starting to run out of things to say. Thankfully, she didn't wait for him to finish chewing his bread.

“I suppose you want me to tell you what was so interesting about my evening last week, now?” Sansa wondered, raising an eyebrow at him. “It's only fair, as you are no longer being mysterious about anything.” She smiled, eyes lighting up with humour.

In all honesty, it had completely slipped his mind that Sansa hadn't wanted to tell him what made her night at the benefit so interesting. Dancing with her had erased all such concerns. Now that she brought it up, he became very curious. It must have been something of note, or she wouldn't have remembered it.

“I confess I'm curious,” Stannis said once he'd swallowed his bread and had a sip of water. He studied her face for clues. She seemed to be struggling with a mixture of emotions. Mostly she looked eager to get something off her chest, but at the same time she looked nervous. Perhaps worried about his reaction? That meant her news could be upsetting. He steeled himself for the worst.

“I overheard Cersei talking to a woman about us.” Sansa bit her lip and started shredding a piece of baguette, making a bit of a mess. She did not seem to even notice that she was doing it. What on earth had Cersei said?

“She said she was angry that you looked be– happy.” Sansa paused. She searched his face for something. He tried to look patient and encouraging. He had no idea if that worked. Probably not. But it seemed to satisfy Sansa, because she continued.

“She said she was angry because, uh, because you ruined her marriage?” Sansa wrinkled her nose, and there was a note of sceptical disbelief in her voice.

Stannis sighed and rubbed his eyes. Typical Cersei. Always blaming others for her own stupid mistakes.

Sansa was looking at him, eyes wide and puzzled. He supposed it wouldn't hurt to tell her what Cersei's deranged take on the situation was. He was sure Sansa would appreciate the truth.

“Cersei ruined her own damn marriage.” Stannis couldn't help the irritation that coloured his words, and hoped Sansa wouldn't mind his swearing. Just the sound of Cersei's name was enough to aggravate him.

“You know that Robert is not the father of the three children Cersei had during their marriage?” Stannis knew that Sansa must be aware of this. It had been all over the news at the time, and Sansa had dated that excuse for a human being, Joffrey.

“Yes, he found out when Myrcella had that accident and needed a blood transfusion. Her blood type couldn't have been O negative if he was truly her father. Robert is type AB positive,” Sansa said, summing it up concisely.

“Exactly. As it happens, Robert never paid attention during biology classes in school. Left to his own devices, he never would have realised that he couldn't have sired a child with an O blood type. I was the one who had to point it out to him,” Stannis explained wearily, “your father backed me up,” he added, thinking Sansa might like to know that.

“Cersei blames you for being the one to explain genetics to Robert?” Sansa clarified, looking half amused, half horrified.

“So it would seem.” Stannis had suspected that Cersei was not happy with him for being the one to reveal her infidelity to Robert, but he hadn't expected her to go as far as to blame him for ruining her marriage. That was clearly her own doing. Stannis had not forced her to sleep around.

“He probably should have realised something was amiss when the kids all came out blond, though,” he said sardonically. 

Sansa smothered a giggle with her hand, eyes dancing with mirth. Stannis felt weirdly accomplished for having made her laugh. He never made anyone laugh. Of the many descriptive words that had been applied to him through the years, (stern, stoic, serious, stuffy), 'funny' had never been one.

“Robert is a kind man, he probably did not want to consider the possibility that the children weren't his,” Sansa said thoughtfully once she had sobered, “he saved me from a dance with Petyr Baelish at the benefit, you know,” she added, as if to submit evidence of Robert's kindness.

He had seen Robert dancing with Sansa at the benefit, and had been surprised by it. Robert usually did not dance very much anymore, so he had wondered at the reason. Now Sansa was saying that it might have something to do with Petyr Baelish?

“Baelish came back for a dance after I stole the first one from under his nose, I take it?” Stannis surmised, hoping that she would elaborate.

“Yep,” Sansa popped the 'p' and rolled her eyes towards the ceiling. “He's kind of a creep,” she confided, looking serious again. Stannis felt vaguely uncomfortable. He was closer to Petyr in age than he was to Sansa. How close was he to being a 'creep'?

“He pretty much said that he was upset that my mother married my dad and not him, and that he wanted me to be his consolation prize,” she grimaced, “also, until Robert cut in, he was way too touchy-feely on the dance floor,” Sansa shuddered theatrically, “so gross.”

Stannis felt a rare wave of brotherly affection at knowing that Robert had rescued Sansa from Baelish. It was quickly overshadowed by a tsunami of fury at Baelish for having the audacity to even _look_ at Sansa. Stannis realised he had bared his teeth viciously when he noticed Sansa looking a little taken aback. He quickly relaxed his face and took a deep breath.

The worst of his anger under control, he was again seized by the worry that his behaviour was creepy too. He tried to dismiss this concern by remembering how Sansa had always welcomed every touch from him, initiating many herself. She didn't even seem upset when she caught him practically drooling all over himself because of her cleavage. The thought had him wincing at his own earlier behaviour.

Sansa, ever the mind-reader, put him at ease.

“He wasn't at all a gentleman. Not like you.” The look she gave him was arresting. He couldn't break their eye contact, though his first instinct had been to avert his gaze. He felt like she was wordlessly telling him something very important, but he just wasn't sure what. 

At least he was reassured that she didn't consider him to be creepy. That was enough for now.

Their meal arrived, distracting them both for a while. When they spoke again, the subject was changed to Sansa's impending graduation. She told him amusing stories about the gala her friend Margaery was organising, and the broken hearts the brunette was leaving in her wake by denying all requests to escort her to the event.

“I think she's just like me. None of the boys at school are grown up enough for her.” Sansa peeked at him from under lowered lashes flirtatiously. Stannis knew he should be rolling his eyes and groaning. She was laying it on thick, all but saying – 'I need a real man, not a little boy'. It was an obvious attempt to stroke his ego. Was he a terrible person for enjoying it?

He did his best to keep his enjoyment from showing on his face and glanced at his watch to have a reason to avoid her eyes. This had the sad side effect of reminding him that he needed to get Sansa home before long, or he wouldn't make it in time for her curfew.

Stannis asked for the check and soon they were getting up to leave. Stannis turned to face the door for a moment, thinking about where he had left the car, and then back towards Sansa. He was baffled when he did not see her immediately. His surprise only lasted a second, because as soon as he looked down he could see that she had knelt to fix a strap on her impractical shoe.

“Damn it, Arya,” she was muttering under her breath, obviously not intending for him to hear her.

She could have said anything at all, and it would not have truly registered. Stannis was completely preoccupied with noticing how she was _kneeling in front of him_. He had some vague thoughts about how he should probably move to the side, or take a step back. In reality, he was rooted to the spot, and hoping she would look up at him. He had fantasised about what that would be like, although she was generally not playing with _her shoe_ in his fantasies. His heart was beating uncomfortably fast, and he his blood was rushing around wildly.

She looked up at him, and reached for his hand. His brain shorted out when their eyes met. Sansa was clearly so completely oblivious to the fantasies that he was immersed in. Her eyes just innocently asking for his assistance. But seeing her like this, kneeling and looking up with those stunning blue eyes, was almost painfully arousing to him. Thankfully he put his hand forward on auto-pilot, helping her get up from the floor. He hoped she would not expect him to say anything coherent for a minute or so. He tried to regulate his breathing as they left the bistro. His breaths were rapid and shallow and he needed them to be deeper, slower. He blinked several times and felt saner as soon as more oxygen reached his brain.

He would be home soon. There he could hole up with his fantasies and his hand and get the release he wanted. Right now he needed to focus on Sansa, and treating her properly. He hoped he hadn't noticed anything off about him.

“Stannis?” She was looking at him and worrying at her lower lip with her teeth. He wasn't quite ready to make proper words, so he made a vague sound to indicate that she had his attention. He offered her his arm for the walk to the car. She took it. She still smelled heavenly. Perhaps he would never be ready to make coherent sentences ever again.

“Do you like me?” Her vulnerability was absolute. Stannis wanted to clench his jaw and squeeze his eyes shut in order to concentrate, but feared she might take that the wrong way. Instead he took another deep breath and stared ahead, hoping that if he didn't look at her, he might be able to answer her without getting hopelessly distracted or tongue-tied.

“I'm sorry, you don't have to answer that -- forget I asked,” she babbled before he got a chance to say anything. She was holding his arm very close and looking down at the ground, but then she kept talking, addressing her feet. “I just really like you, and I guess I was hoping – we've been on three dates now. I thought maybe you would know if...” she trailed off, but started again. “At the benefit last week, we agreed to date exclusively and I hoped – Do you think of me as your girlfriend?”

Stannis couldn't believe his ears. Her agreeing to date him exclusively so she wouldn't have to deal with advances from men like Petyr Baelish was one thing, but wanting to be his girlfriend? That was quite another. He was absolutely floored. What on earth should he say?

“Sansa, please allow me a moment,” he finally begged when he heard her take a breath, obviously about to say more. He couldn't handle much more than what she'd already said.

Stannis thought it over. He had already admitted to himself that he would take anything she would give him. He just hadn't expected her to want to give him this much. He knew he should try to explain that he was a dour, grumpy man, and that she was too good for the likes of him, but he had been himself with her, and she had come back for more. She wanted him to call her his.

He didn't know why he was even thinking this over. He wasn't fooling anyone.

“I had hoped that I made it clear that I am attracted to you and find your company very... very pleasing,” Stannis stared resolutely ahead as he spoke, feeling very exposed somehow. He thought he might lose his nerve and forget how to talk if he looked at Sansa. “I hadn't realised you wanted to move our relationship forward, but I am open to it and willing. If that is what you truly wish,” he hedged, careful not to pressure Sansa. He desperately wanted to look at her to gauge her reaction. A quick glance wouldn't hurt, surely?

She looked absolutely thrilled at his words, and of course he couldn't look away again. Her smile was wide and elated, her eyes bright and adoring, and she was nodding at him – too happy to speak. They had reached his car, and as soon as he came to a halt, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately. She nipped at his lower lip to indicate her wish to deepen the kiss and he happily obliged her, already overwhelmed at the sensations her lips and tongue were causing. She tasted like the crème brûlée she had for dessert. He pulled her close, one hand splayed on the small of her back the other between her shoulder blades. He wanted to feel every inch of her against him as they kissed. She felt perfect in his arms, as always. Warm and soft, firm but yielding. Her scent surrounded him pleasantly, causing him to feel very hazy and vague.

When they came up for air Sansa laughed joyfully. “I'll have to think of something better to call you than my boyfriend. The word just doesn't seem to fit you.”

Stannis huffed out an amused breath. He had to agree. Although he quite liked the idea of calling her his girlfriend. Despite how juvenile it sounded.

He did not want to let her go, but time was starting to be of the essence, and they needed to get inside the car. They broke apart slowly, and Stannis allowed his hands to travel to her sides, and down the length of her body. He kept his touch light, but at the dip of her waist he rested his palms fully against her, his thumbs pointing towards her navel, his fingers towards the small of her back. He wondered at her waist's tiny circumference. He was unable to touch his thumbs or his fingers together, but he wasn't _that_ far from it. He moved his thumbs up and down, stroking her absently through her dress.

“That feels so nice,” Sansa breathed, her eyes closed.

Stannis could hardly believe how responsive she was. After all, they were clothed and he wasn't even touching parts of her that were particularly erogenous. His thoughts kept straying, imagining how she would respond when he touched her somewhere less innocent. A vision of her with her head thrown back, the column of her neck exposed, her breasts heaving, and her voice saying his name over and over again entered his mind and set his heart to racing.

He ground his teeth together and used his grip on her waist to push them further apart.

“I'm afraid we have to get going now,” he told her regretfully when she opened her eyes and looked at him in confusion. Leaving was the last thing he wanted to do, but his mind was completely uncooperative right now. He had to get a little distance.

“Oh, of course.” She blushed prettily and accepted his assistance getting into the car. He used the short amount of time while he walked around to the driver's side to take several deep breaths and collect himself. It was really quite impossible to want her this much.

She seemed to sense that he needed a few minutes to calm down, or perhaps she was trying to calm down herself? In any case, she did not speak until they were out of the city. He was grateful for it. Focusing on driving was doing wonders for his mental faculties. The familiar movements were soothing, and weaving through traffic kept is mind occupied. When she did speak, he was feeling almost normal again.

“Is it okay if I tell my family?” she asked shyly, “about us being in a relationship now?” she clarified.

“Of course.” Stannis was surprised that she'd even ask. But he thought it over and decided to ask her a favour.

“If you'd refrain from putting anything online, I would appreciate it. Shireen will be returning from boarding school soon, and I'd like the chance to tell her about it in person before it's all over the Internet.” He hoped he did not sound too harsh, he was aiming for polite.

Stannis was not really looking forward to the conversation he would need to have with Shireen. He had no idea how she would react to the idea of him bringing another woman into her life. He hoped she would be happy for him but knew better than to assume anything about her feelings. She was entering a difficult stage in her life, after all. Her hormones would be running rampant and her emotions scattered all over the place. He knew things were often even worse for girls than they were for boys. Stannis grimaced. His own teen years had been bad enough, as he recalled.

“I won't post anything about it online. I'll just tell my family, and probably Margaery. She's been very supportive about us,” Sansa promised, sounding perfectly content to respect his stipulation. Stannis was relieved. He knew most of the people in their age group seemed to feel that anything that happened in life wasn't real until it was documented on the Internet. He'd always thought it was ridiculous, and refused to participate in most social media. Renly usually sent him links to anything important, anyway.

“Thank you.” He nodded his thanks, and even attempted a smile.

Sansa, his _girlfriend_ , beamed at him in return.


	10. The graduation gala

Sansa sat at her vanity and put the finishing touches on her eye make-up. She had of course already made herself up for the graduation ceremony earlier that day, but she needed to turn her modest daytime look into a more dramatic evening one for Margaery's gala. Her hair she would leave as it was, falling down her back in soft waves.

The ceremony had been long and boring, and her parents had been very embarrassing after it finally finished. (Her mother had _cried_. In _public_.) She thought they would be used to their children graduating by now. After all, Robb and Jon had already done it. 

They had insisted on taking about a million pictures of her with her diploma, and another million of her and Margaery together. She hadn't really minded all the attention if she were to be completely honest. She was even looking forward to the graduation party her mother was going to throw for her tomorrow. It would just be close family and friends, but Sansa knew there would be lemon cakes, and french chocolate cake, and possibly presents. Who wouldn't like that? And of course, Stannis was invited. It would be a little strange, having him there as her _boyfriend._ (She really needed to find a better word.) She hoped her family wouldn't be too embarrassing. 

At least they already knew Stannis. They shouldn't feel the need to interrogate him about his life and his family. She remembered when Robb had first brought Jeyne home. Her parents had been relentless, questioning her – albeit nicely – about pretty much everything she'd ever done. Jeyne had passed the test with flying colours, of course. She was studying to become a doctor, and Sansa very rarely saw her these days. Pretty much just at Christmas.

Sansa looked at her impeccable face in the mirror and sighed.

If she could, she would simply bail on the graduation gala completely, but she didn't have the heart to do that to Margaery. So she was planning to compromise by going to the gala, but leaving early to pay Stannis a surprise visit. She knew he would be at home, because she'd asked him what he'd be doing that evening in one of her emails. They'd been corresponding every day since he took her to the ballet, even texting a little. 

Stannis wrote very funny texts. They had everything spelled out correctly and there was even punctuation. He never used smiley faces. Sansa tried to copy his style, but sometimes she forgot. Stannis occasionally asked for translations, if she used particularly obscure text speak.

Last Wednesday Stannis had made the mistake of telling Sansa – via text – that he shouldn't be texting her, as he was in a meeting. However Sansa sensed that he was incredibly bored, and proceeded to send him progressively more flirtatious messages. She knew he'd be unable to resists the temptation to read them, and she was wickedly amused at the idea of distracting him from his boring meeting completely.

She wondered if he would scold her for it tonight. She hoped not. She wanted to spend the evening just being a couple. They could do some more kissing. Stannis definitely did not seem opposed to kissing. She watched the cheeks of her reflection redden as she recalled how he had responded when she had kissed him by his car last week. The memory of his hands at her waist made her shiver with pleasure. His hands were so big and _strong._ It was exciting when he held her in a grip that could easily become firmer if he wished it, and yet – because he cared about her – he was so mindful not to hurt her.

Sansa bit her lip. She really shouldn't expect him to want to kiss _all the time._ Her mother and father certainly did not go around the house kissing at all hours of the day. Maybe Stannis would let her curl up next to him on the sofa instead, like she sometimes saw her mother do with her father? And if she asked sweetly he might even stroke her hair... 

Whenever Sansa caught her father doing that with her mother, it made her heart feel so big and warm inside her chest. She couldn't imagine anything more romantic.

Yes. That would be a perfectly acceptable substitute for kissing, Sansa decided.

Whether Stannis kissed her, stroked her hair, or did something else entirely, Sansa hoped that they could have a nice quiet evening without her family around to torture him. Hopefully the memory of it would then serve to keep him from wanting to run away from her and the rest of the Starks after the graduation party tomorrow.

“Sansa! Are you ready?” her mother's voice called from beyond her bedroom door.

Sansa glanced at the dress that was still hanging on the outside of her closet door, ready to be worn. At the moment she was only in the black and pink underwear that Margaery had encouraged her to buy, thigh-high stockings, and a silk dressing gown. She always wore her nicest underwear when she was with Stannis. Margaery had been so right about it giving her extra confidence, and she had really liked how Stannis had reacted when he'd put his hand up her skirt in the Japanese garden and realised that she was wearing thigh-highs. He had been all flustered and tongue-tied. (She hoped he'd do it again.)

“I just need to put my dress on. What is it?” Sansa raised her voice just enough for it to carry. She did not shout like a mad baboon as Arya usually did.

“Margaery's mother just called. Margaery is on her way. You should hurry up!”

Sansa grabbed her phone and looked at the time. Apparently she had been lost in thought for longer than she realised. She rushed to put her new dress on. Her mother had taken her shopping for a graduation dress, and allowed her to pick a couture gown from one of the high-end boutiques that Catelyn herself frequented. Sansa loved it completely. It was a sapphire blue cocktail dress that hugged her figure without revealing much skin. Sansa had fallen in love with the soft fabric immediately after trying it on, and she adored how it was covered in sparkling crystals that caught the light when she moved. 

Strappy black sandals and a plain silk clutch completed her look. She made her way downstairs as fast as her heels would allow.

A few hundred pictures later, only five of which did not include Arya the magnificent photobomber, Sansa was tottering out to the extravagant limo that Margaery had insisted on for the evening.

“Sansa you look amazing!” Margaery squealed excitedly as Sansa joined her in the spacious vehicle. “Here, have some bubbly.” A glass was thrust into Sansa's hand. She took it and had a small sip. It wasn't as good as the Champagne her father had let her drink, but it was sweet and tickled her nose pleasantly.

“Thanks Margaery, you look gorgeous!” If Sansa had been the type to get jealous, her friendship with Margaery would not have lasted long. Margaery had a gift for making anything she touched look good. It was her confidence that gave her the sort of effortless beauty that some women spent a lifetime trying to achieve. Currently the brunette looked nothing short of resplendent in a flowing, revealing gown. Green of course – Margaery's signature colour.

“Are you ready to make all the girls at the gala wild with envy?” Margaery asked mischievously, clinking her glass with Sansa's.

“I'll leave that to you,” Sansa laughed. She was still amazed that Margaery had decided to turn down all prospective dates for the evening. She did not intend to stay very long at the event, but she looked forward to seeing what Margaery would do while Sansa was there.

“I'm not sure I'm entirely happy with you for wanting to duck out early. I understand that you're obsessed with Stannis right now, but you know how hard I worked to make this gala spectacular!” Margaery pouted prettily and took a large sip of her bubbly.

“Of course I know how hard you worked! You've been telling me every little detail for weeks. That's why I'm not bailing entirely.” Sansa rolled her eyes. “And I'm not obsessed with Stannis,” she added grumpily.

“You are so obsessed with Stannis,” Margaery argued, laughter in her eyes, “I get it, I do. It's not every day someone so uptight becomes putty in your hands. I'd be flattered by it too.” She reached for the bottle to refill her glass. She offered to top Sansa off too, but as Sansa had only had a few little sips there was no need. 

Margaery changed the subject before Sansa could argue that she didn't like Stannis just because he was showing her a side of himself that he rarely revealed to anyone. Although she could not deny that it was part of the appeal.

“Anyway. What are you going to do with him, alone in his apartment?” Margaery raised an eyebrow and emphasised the word 'alone' suggestively.

Sansa felt herself blush. She knew Margaery was asking about sex. She wished she wouldn't. Sansa generally did not mind Margaery talking about sex, it was very interesting and sometimes quite educational, but Sansa did not want to talk about her own sex life. Or lack there of. She just didn't know if she were ready to go that far with Stannis just yet. She was sure that she would want it eventually, but she wanted to know him better first. She wanted to be more secure in their relationship. She wanted to – she blushed more deeply – know that he loved her first.

“You know I'm not going to do _that_ yet,” Sansa said, feeling awkward and a little silly.

“Well, you don't have to have sex, you can do other things to get each other off until you feel ready to go all the way. You know that,” Margaery giggled a little tipsily.

Sansa couldn't help the stricken look that appeared on her face. She hadn't even considered doing anything like that, either.

Correctly interpreting Sansa's expression, Margaery gasped. “You haven't got each other off even once, have you?” She covered her mouth with a hand. First to cover her mouth which was gaping open in shock, and then to muffle her giggles.

“Poor Stannis!” Margaery managed to exclaim between fits of giggles. “Gods, they must be turning blue.”

Sansa was not so virginal as to need Margaery to explain what she meant, but she pretended to be shocked none the less.

“Stannis has not complained once, I'll have you know,” Sansa tried for as much dignity as she could muster, but her cheeks were still aflame.

“Of course he hasn't. He's _Stannis_. He will grit his teeth and bear whatever sexual frustration you heap on him, because he's so _honourable._ ” Margaery appeared to be competing in the eye-rolling Olympics. It was starting to really get on Sansa's nerves. More importantly, Margaery's words were worrying her. Was Stannis frustrated? He was probably used to relationships moving a little faster than theirs was. What if their kissing was just teasing him? She didn't want him to get annoyed with her.

“Do you really think he's frustrated?” Sansa hated how vulnerable she sounded. She wished she was more experienced, more worldly and more confident about these things, but she just wasn't. It had taken her time to recover her ability to trust after Joffrey. She was ready to explore her sexuality now, but she needed to take things slow, and she needed to be with someone who would never hurt her or rush her. Maybe it was unfair of her to expect Stannis to be so patient with her?

Margaery sensed Sansa's mood and turned to face her seriously.

“He probably is. Remember how you turned him on just by sitting in his lap in the jeep? He barely even knew you then. Now that you're his girlfriend he's probably going out of his mind.” Margaery's tone was no longer mocking or full of laughter. She sounded thoughtful, and was speaking in a slow soothing way. “However, he is a gentleman. He won't pressure you, and he'll wait as long as it takes.” Margaery appeared completely sure of this, and Sansa felt better for seeing her confidence.

“You don't think he'll get annoyed with me?” Sansa asked, still feeling a little small.

“Never,” Margaery stated and looked Sansa right in the eyes. Then her serious façade melted into a wicked grin.

“Especially if you give him a hand job or something,” she laughed.

Sansa gulped down a few sips of bubbly to cover her embarrassment. The idea of touching Stannis _there_ was actually quite exciting. She felt heat start to gather between her thighs when she imagined what it would feel like and how he'd react. She pressed her legs subtly together to ease the ache, hoping Margaery wouldn't notice.

She couldn't wait to get to the gala. The sooner she got there, the sooner she could leave and visit Stannis.

***

Sansa was standing outside Stannis' apartment door.

She'd only spent an hour at the gala. Mostly to observe Margaery's shameless flirting with every boy there, to the fury of their dates. It had been very amusing. Sansa had quite liked the canapés too, but soon became bored by the proceedings. (Not to mention uncomfortable at the looks she was garnering from some of the boys). She said her goodbyes to Margaery and slipped out when most of her classmates were distracted by the band being announced.

She called a taxi, and probably made the driver's night when she told him she wanted to go all the way to Kings' Landing. The fare was small change compared with what Sansa had dropped to buy the lingerie she was wearing, so she had not flinched at the amount. She knew her allowance would not last very long if she made it a habit to do this, but once in a while should be fine.

It had been easy to get past the doorman, apparently Sansa was already on the approved guest list. She smiled fondly – of course Stannis would have seen to such a thing. Now that they were in a relationship, he would have wanted to make sure she was welcome in his home. It warmed her insides to think of it. She wondered if the guard had called Stannis to tell him that she was on her way up. She doubted it. If he had, Stannis would probably have left the door ajar for her.

Sansa straightened her dress for the third time and pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Then she bravely knocked on the door.

She listened intently, trying to discern whether anyone was moving on the other side. She heard a loud thunk, and some quiet mutters. Was Stannis cursing? She suppressed a giggle at the thought. She hoped she hadn't caught him at a bad time.

Sansa could hear footsteps now, growing louder.

The door swung open and Sansa was abruptly face-to-chest with a very sweaty Stannis Baratheon. He had obviously been working out, as he was dressed in loose, exercise-friendly clothing. His shirt did not leave much to the imagination, despite not being that tight. The sweat was causing it to stick to his body like a second skin. Sansa was mesmerised by the outlines of his pectorals for a few moments, but was soon able to collect her wits and lift her chin to look at his face instead.

Stannis was already looking down at her in stunned surprise. He was breathing more heavily than he generally did, likely due to the exercise, and blinking rapidly. It was as if he couldn't quite believe that she was actually standing there.

“Sansa – !” he began, but cut himself off, obviously not sure what to say. He sounded a little strained, but not entirely upset.

“Hello,” she greeted him cheerfully, realising that she'd just been staring at him in silence. “I got bored at Margaery's gala and decided to visit you instead. You don't mind, do you?” She gave him her most persuasive wide-eyed look, followed by her most innocent smile. She really didn't want him to turn her around and send her home.

“Uh.” Stannis seemed to be at a complete loss. His breathing had slowed, and he was rubbing absently at the back of his neck. To Sansa’s delight, he did not seem to be able to stop staring at her.

As he was busy staring, he still hadn’t invited her in. She'd obviously have to take control of the situation. Taking a step forward, she closed the door behind her. Stannis moved to accommodate her, and did not object. Sansa took heart from this, and began to feel confident that he wouldn't send her away.

“I can just watch TV or something if you want to finish your workout?” she suggested demurely. She wanted Stannis to know that she wouldn't expect him to wait on her while she was there. She was there uninvited after all, and hadn't expected him to drop everything to entertain her. She certainly wouldn't mind if he did, but she didn't _expect_ it.

Stannis made a helpless sort of gesture at the sofa that faced the television screen.

“Uh, yes. Feel free. I'll just – I mean, I was just about to shower.” He was still looking at her as if he couldn't quite believe his eyes.

Meanwhile, Sansa was blushing at the idea of being in his apartment while he showered. (Naked! He'd be naked!) She hurriedly sat down on the sofa and grabbed the remote for something to do.

She occupied herself with figuring out how to get the television working, and purposefully did not look back at Stannis when she heard him leave the room. She flicked through the channels aimlessly for a while, her mind completely fixed on the idea that Stannis was just a short walk away from her. Showering. _Naked_.

Sansa tried to imagine what his reaction would be if she walked in on him and joined him in the shower. She'd never dare, really, but it was a fascinating idea. In her mind's eye she could picture how he'd look even more shocked than he had when he'd opened the door. Hopefully he'd also look pleased, and his eyes would go all dark like they did when they'd been kissing. He'd look especially pleased when he would see that she had taken all her clothes off in anticipation of joining him. (The Sansa of her imagination was much braver than Sansa thought she could ever be in real life.)

Perhaps she would catch a glimpse of what he looked like _down there_? She remembered seeing a trail of very dark hair disappear into his swimming trunks back at the lodge, and based on what she'd seen in pictures the hair would probably be curly, thick and dense around his... parts.

Sansa knew she shouldn't be embarrassed to think about that part of his anatomy. Especially if she planned to actually have sex with him at some point. But she just didn't feel like she knew the right words to use. Just like the word 'boyfriend' seemed inadequate to describe Stannis, the word 'penis' just seemed too _clinical_ to apply. The racy romance novels she sometimes read usually used flowery words like 'manhood', 'engorged flesh', 'organ' or something similarly embarrassing. She never minded when she was reading those passages, but the words just didn't seem to fit Stannis. There was one word that Margaery sometimes used that Sansa liked, but it just seemed a bit naughty. Even for use in the privacy of her own head.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. If she was going to do something shameless like give Stannis a hand-job as Margaery had suggested, she ought to be able to call his parts anything she wanted. It should be something she liked and didn't make her cringe. Something she could imagine saying out loud – at least when it was just Stannis and her. Sansa felt a pleasurable, racy thrill go through her as she imagined asking Stannis if he would mind terribly much if she were to touch his _cock._

Would he be scandalised? Probably not. She thought he might like the word even more than she did. Under the right circumstances.

She shifted around on the sofa uncomfortably. Her dress was really not made for lounging around on sofas. She wished she had thought to bring a change of clothes. Maybe Stannis had a dressing gown she could borrow? The idea of curling up next to him on the sofa would come to nothing if she had to wear this dress for the entire evening. She didn't want to stretch the fabric or risk any of the crystals falling off.

Maybe she should use the opportunity while Stannis was in the shower to raid his closet? What was it that Robb sometimes said? It's better to beg forgiveness than ask permission?

Sansa bit her lip, indecision plaguing her.

A brief internal struggle later, she was walking determinedly to the door she assumed had to lead to Stannis' bedroom. Her heart was hammering away in her chest, and she felt a rush of adrenaline at doing something like this without asking permission first. Sansa had lost count of how many times she had seen girls come to school in their boyfriends' shirts, jackets or even their jeans. Stealing clothes from one's boyfriend seemed to be a normal thing to do in a relationship and she was just going to borrow something for the duration of the evening.

When she entered the bedroom she noticed that the door that led to the en suite bathroom was ajar. She could hear water running, as well as splashes that were presumably caused by Stannis moving around under the spray. She'd have to be very quiet to make sure he didn't hear her intruding.

Sansa tip-toed to the closet that covered the far wall. She eased one of the closet doors open, and was faced with a lot of shirts in monochrome shades. The were all pristine, flawlessly ironed and hung on identical hangers. Sansa had seen too many films to be able to resist. The actresses always looked so beautiful when they wore nothing but a man's dress shirt. She gave into the sudden, but uncontrollable urge to see what she looked like in one of Stannis' shirts.

Sansa picked a black shirt to match her underwear. She quickly divested herself of her dress, and placed it on the hanger she removed the shirt from. Then she shrugged the shirt on, buttoned up some of the fiddly little buttons, and went to look at herself in the mirror that had been cleverly built into the outside of another closet door.

The shirt was much too big on her. She had to roll the sleeves up to her elbows to get them out of the way. It was even long enough to be able to cover the lace tops of her thigh-highs. Although she knew it wouldn't cover them if she sat down. With the top buttons unbuttoned, her collar bones were visible, and a hint cleavage. Her hair was a little dishevelled as she'd had to pull her dress over her head when she took it off, and her face was flushed with excitement. Sansa quite liked the overall effect. She thought she looked just like an actress playing a 'morning after' scene. 

Well, if she took her heels and her stockings off it would be like a morning look. With them on she was more like a _seductress_. She placed her hand in front of her mouth, smothering a giggle at the thought.

She couldn't let Stannis see her like this. She'd have to find something else to wear.

Sansa moved to open another closet door, but froze when she heard the shower stop running. Without the sound of the water to cover her, Stannis would probably hear her if she made any move at all.

Sansa had thought her heart had been beating fast before, but now it was drumming away at a speed she would not have believed it capable of. 

What should she do?

Stannis was moving around in the bathroom, towelling himself off from the sound of it. He would emerge any second now. (Would he be wearing anything?)

Sansa was frantically trying to assess her options when she was hit with an idea. Something that might just work. She didn't have time to plan anything in detail, but she did have time to calm down a little. So she breathed, and turned to face the mirror again, pretending to be absorbed in her reflection. But she listened as hard as she ever had.

She heard the bathroom door swing open, and felt a gust of air hit the back of her legs.

“Sansa!” Stannis choked out as soon as he saw her. That was her cue. She turned around to face him, plan fixed firmly in mind. 

She must not get distracted by the fact that Stannis was only wearing a towel. That would completely ruin her plan. Gods, he was so _fit_. She dragged her eyes from his abs to his face -- his very surprised, almost slack-jawed face. The usual scowl was like a distant memory.

“Oh!” She pretended to be completely surprised. Then she relaxed her face into a smile. Her heart suddenly felt like it was beating in her throat, not her chest.

“My dress was getting so uncomfortable,” She explained lightly. Her plan hinged on using as much of the truth as possible. “I was just going to borrow a dressing gown or something,” She smiled again. “This shirt seems to work, though.” She purposefully looked at her reflection again, turning this way and that – as if she were trying to judge its suitability. 

Stannis definitely did not need to know that she'd wanted to live out some movie-fantasy with his shirt. Hopefully this little act would make him think that she'd only put it on as an alternative to a dressing gown.

She bit her lip. Would he be angry?

Sansa looked at his face again, making sure to steer clear of all that skin. It was still a little pink from the shower, and she had to use all of her willpower to focus on his face.

His eyes were making no effort to stay fixed on her face. They were raking over her form, traveling from her head and all the way down to her shoes, only to return up to her face again. He had shut his mouth tightly, locking his jaw. He was swallowing convulsively, and his hands were in motion, repeatedly clenching into tight fists only to unclench again slowly. Sansa did not think he was even aware that he was doing it.

She'd never seen his eyes go that dark. Nor had she ever seen him struggle that hard with obvious desire for her. She wondered why it didn't frighten her. After all, she was in his bedroom. They were alone in his apartment. She was completely at his mercy.

“Stannis?” Her voice came out as a whisper, and she was surprised at how _needy_ she sounded.

He shut his eyes tightly and collapsed into a sitting position on his bed. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. His eyes were still screwed tightly shut.

She decided to go to him. He was wound so tight, and she wanted him to relax and say something. Maybe if she kissed him, reminded him that she was his girlfriend and that he had no reason to be so edgy with her, he would loosen up a little?

Yes. She would kiss him for those entirely unselfish reasons. Not because she wanted a chance to touch his bare chest.

His body stiffened when she sat down next to him. That was the opposite reaction she had been hoping for. She stroked his arm softly a few times, but that did not seem to relax him either. He was breathing as hard as he had been when he answered the door. When she touched her lips to his neck she could hear him suck in a quick breath. Then he made a strangled sound that sent tendrils of heat through her body. She wanted him to make more sounds like that.

She kissed her way up his neck, until she reached the spot near his ear, where his jaw began. Her tongue darted out to taste the skin there, and she felt Stannis _shudder._

“Sansa, what are you doing?” he all but moaned, eyes still firmly shut.

“Trying to get you to relax. You’re so stressed.” She spoke softly, mindful that her lips were right next to his ear. She continued to kiss his neck, pressing her lips to his skin and lingering until she felt like moving to another spot.

Stannis’ skin was still a little damp and oddly cool from the shower, and the skin of his neck smelled of soap and freshly applied cologne. She really liked his cologne. Usually Sansa could only smell it quite faintly, but now she could detect the different notes of the scent very clearly. It was woodsy sort of citrus fragrance, with hints of sage and white musk. The cologne mixed with his natural scent to produce an aroma that could not have come from a bottle. She adored it. Sansa wished she did not have to exhale so often. She felt every moment spent exhaling was a waste of time.

Sansa was surprised at how tense Stannis still was. Usually he would have responded to her kisses by now. He obviously wanted her, but he was holding himself back. Why would he do that? Perhaps she should stop peppering his neck, jaw and ear with kisses and seek out his lips?

She reached up to caress the cheek, exerting the lightest of pressure to communicate that she wanted him to turn his head to face her. He did not comply with her unspoken command immediately, but once he did, she wasted no time in claiming his lips. They shared a soft kiss and Sansa dropped her hand to rest over his heart. She could feel how hard his heart was beating and she wondered if it was because he was as excited as she. 

Touching his bare chest was even more fun than she had thought it would be. Her hand wandered a little, stroking and petting him. She liked the sparse, dark hairs that tickled her, and she loved the feel of the hard muscle, tensing under her fingertips.

When she attempted to deepen the kiss, Stannis broke it instead. He made a strangled sound that Sansa had no idea how to interpret. It was almost as if he was in pain. Had she hurt him? She looked down and saw that he had grabbed handfuls of his bedspread and was holding on to it very tightly judging by how white his knuckles were getting. She studiously avoided looking below his waist. The way he had tucked the towel around himself caused folds in the terrycloth that obscured anything interesting she might have seen, but she still thought it best not to stare.

"Have I done something wrong?" she asked him, unable to hide the note of concern in her tone. She was becoming increasingly worried that she had somehow overstepped.

"No."

He was breathing so _fast_. (She quite liked the effect it had on his chest.)

"Do you want me to leave?" Sansa bit her lip. She wished he would tell her what he wanted.

He shook his head in response. He still hadn't opened his eyes.

Sansa was starting to think that Stannis had absolutely no idea what he wanted. Well, she knew what she wanted. She wanted to kiss him. Maybe if she just did what she had done in the hot tub, when she had been brave and dressed in Margaery's bikini, he would just... let her? This time he would have no excuse to push her off his lap. Girlfriends were allowed to sit in their boyfriends' laps.

She got up from the bed. This seemed to surprise Stannis. He opened his eyes to search for her, looking panicked. Was he afraid she was leaving? When he saw her standing in front of him, he seemed to regret his decision to look at her, because that pained expression returned, and he closed his eyes tightly again, his nostrils flaring.

Quickly, lest she over-think it and lose her nerve, she climbed onto the bed and placed one knee on each side of Stannis. Before he had a chance to react, she had pressed herself against him fully, straddling him. She kissed him full on the mouth - one hand carding through his towel-dried hair, the other clutching at his back.

For a few moments, Stannis could not respond, obviously too stunned to move. Finally he made a sound that was somewhere between a groan and a growl, and moved his hands to her back, holding her tightly to him. He was crushing her so firmly to his body, that she almost had trouble breathing. She felt like he was trying to devour her. He coaxed her mouth to open wider to allow his tongue complete access. She was excited to explore him with her own tongue in return, but she could barely keep up. It was dizzying.

She moaned deep in her throat when he pulled back to suck on her bottom lip. Her moan seemed to spur him on, and he moved to her neck, placing hot, open-mouthed kisses all along her jaw and down to where her neck sloped towards her shoulder. One of his hands moved to her thigh. He stroked the side of it, starting at the lace of her stocking and moving to the bare skin that was only barely hidden by the borrowed shirt. It was a gentle touch, but his fingers were sending wave after wave of pleasure through her, and the ache between her thighs was becoming impossible to ignore. She didn't dare press herself too tightly against him though she desperately wanted to take the edge off.

When he used his tongue to do _something_ to the sensitive skin over her jugular she breathed out another drawn out moan. Maybe he understood what she was longing for, because he hissed out a breath and then his hands were grabbing her below the waist, pressing her down. _Hard._ His grip was almost painful, but she hardly noticed because being pressed against him like that was exactly what she needed. She could not remember ever having anything feel so good. 

It was as if the hot need that had been building between her thighs could only be relieved when Stannis ground her against him. The feeling was especially satisfying because there was a bulge pressing insistently against her centre, exactly where she needed the pressure the most. If her skin wasn’t already flushed with arousal, she was sure she would have blushed, because she was reasonably sure that it was his erection. However the towel was thick and there were lumpy folds in the fabric. Perhaps she was wrong...

She wriggled around experimentally to try to figure it out. (Or possibly because it felt incredibly good.) The movement made Stannis stop his ministrations throw back his head and _gasp_. It was a harsh, quick breath and it was accompanied by a very contradictory look of tortured arousal.

Stannis moved his hands up to her shoulders, stilling her.

“I can't – “ His voice was deep and rough, and he sounded desperate and almost broken with pleasure. It was a thrilling sound to Sansa's ears. She was certain she had never heard anything as sexy as his voice in that moment.

“You can't what?” Sansa was curious. She knew that he wanted her, but she wanted to hear him say something about it. She wanted him to keep talking in that husky, rough voice.

“I can't _think_. Please, stop moving.” Stannis gripped her shoulders tighter, and Sansa realised she had been rocking against him, tiny involuntary movements attempting to relieve more of the pressure between her legs. She made a concentrated effort to still herself. As soon as she stopped, she felt like she was burning up with the want of friction. A little whimper escaped her.

“Gods, you're killing me,” Stannis muttered under his breath. He'd shut his eyes again, and she could tell he was attempting to take deep, calming breaths.

“I'm not trying to,” Sansa whimpered. She thought she might combust if she couldn't relieve the pressure soon. “It just feels so good.” 

His eyes flew open at that, and he stared at her incredulously. His eyes searched her face as if he were trying to solve some kind of riddle, and the clues were all hidden in her features.

She rocked against him again, even though she was trying to be still. She begged him with her eyes to let her keep moving. Maybe she should beg him with words, too?

“Please Stannis, I need – “ Sansa cut herself off with a gasp when she felt Stannis buck against her. Apparently he had read her mind.

He kissed her again – deeply, and took hold of her upper thighs, using his grip to rhythmically grind her against his erection. It felt _amazing._ Similar to what she sometimes felt when she put a pillow between her legs and rubbed up against it, but _so_ much better. She thought it was probably because his hands were so hot on the bare skin underneath the stolen shirt, and the hard bulge of his erection kept pressing against that wonderful spot that made her feel wave after wave of intense pleasure. 

His kiss was more controlled than it had been before, and she was able to return it more easily – their tongues curling around each other experimentally as he brought her ever closer to completion. His hands were almost unnecessary now, she no longer needed them to guide her. She was grinding herself against him all on her own, and he was thrusting up to meet her as she did.

Suddenly the pleasure reached its peak, and Sansa had to break the kiss in order to let out a sound that was not quite a scream, but more than a moan. It was almost too intense to bear. The pleasure thrummed and pounded, and turned into that strange pleasure-pain that made her want to stop and keep going at the same time.

She could still feel Stannis' erection firmly pressed against her, and she knew he hadn't... finished. Before she could process that piece of information, she realised what exactly they had just done, and she felt her face heat up with embarrassment. He'd been ready to stop, and she had practically _begged_ him to get her off. What must he think of her? She couldn't look at him. 

Sansa buried her face in the crook of his neck and tried to focus on slowing her breathing. Maybe if she just calmed down a little, it wouldn't feel so mortifying?

When Stannis moved his hand up to let his fingers comb through her hair, she felt her embarrassment melt away into overwhelming affection. She had so hoped that he'd want to stroke her hair...

He continued to stroke her hair and hold her tightly for a while. He was not bucking up or pressing her against him – even though he was obviously still rock-hard. The feel of him firm against her was preventing her from coming down from her high completely. If she didn't get away from the pressure soon she'd start to want more, and that would only lead to trouble.

She regretfully rose to her knees and swung one over so that she was kneeling next to him on the bed. He dropped his arms, placing his hands palms down behind him – leaning most of his weight on them. She shifted around until she was facing towards him, tucking her legs underneath her as if she were sitting on a magic carpet. He twisted his torso around a little so that he could look at her in return.

Sansa had no idea what she should say. She glanced down at his lap, and could see a very prominent bulge still in evidence. Stannis followed her eyes, grimaced, changed his position and shifted his towel around to make things a little less obvious.

She felt her throat dry out at the idea of what she was about to suggest, but she wanted to at least _offer._ It seemed only fair.

“I could help with that – If you want.” She tried her hardest not to blush. She wanted to look confident and seductive, not shy and embarrassed.

Stannis blinked at her owlishly and opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words came out, and he clenched his jaw instead. A shadow seemed to pass over his face, and he breathed deeply before answering very stiffly and formally.

“That – that is not necessary.”

Sansa felt oddly put at ease by his very Stannis-like response. The idea of touching him suddenly seemed much less intimidating, and she was curious about what he would look like if she managed to unravel him completely.

“I know it's not, but I'd like to.” She actually managed to sound quite confident.

She could tell that Stannis would not be able to resist if she continued to press her advantage. His Adam's apple was bobbing up and down, and his attempts at deep, even breaths were not entirely successful.

Sansa put her hand on his thigh, high up and close to the lumps in the towel that Stannis had created in an attempt at modesty. Her heart was racing, and just as Stannis gave up on deep and even breaths, her own breathing became a little faster.

“Sansa...” he whispered her name, trailing off uncertainly. He did not seem to know whether he wanted to beg her to stop or keep going.

Feeling like the world's bravest woman, she put her hand directly where she thought there might be something more than towel underneath. It was strange. The towel was thick and soft, but she could feel something very hard and searing hot underneath. She had occasionally touched Joffrey through his jeans, but this was somehow completely different. She actually wanted to do this, for one thing. She was a little nervous as she'd never done anything like this before, but she wasn't afraid.

Stannis groaned, and his muscles were all so tense that they seemed to be vibrating with the effort.

She pulled on the terrycloth until it was lying smooth, and she could clearly see the outline of what she had to work with. His _cock._ It tented the fabric, even though it was a thick and heavy towel. She stroked it once, pressing it down against his body as she did. When she let go, it sprang back up, tenting the fabric of the towel again. Stannis hissed out a sound that might have been meant to be a word. Sansa was too intent on her exploration to care. As long as he seemed to enjoy her attentions and did not ask her to stop, she was going to do as she wished.

Deciding that it could not be very comfortable to be stroked through a towel, Sansa found a gap she could use to sneak her hand underneath. She would have liked to remove the towel entirely, but she thought it might make him uneasy. She also thought that if she got a chance to gawp at him, she should be willing to strip in return. And although her reservations about letting him see her without her clothes were rapidly disappearing, they were still there.

So she blindly felt him up under the towel, listening to his laboured breathing, occasional gasps, and the odd guiding word. He was so hot to the touch, she thought she might burn her hand at first. He felt quite big in her hand, and slightly curved. The head was sticky with a slippery substance that she attempted to coat her palm with. She knew that the sensation would be better for him that way. What she didn't know was how hard to squeeze, how fast to go, whether it was better to focus on the base or the head, and should she touch the skin of his thighs and his lower abdomen as well? What about his testicles? She bit her lip and frowned, hoping that she wasn't doing this all wrong.

Based on his reactions so far, everything she was doing was right. Or possibly everything she was doing was causing him terrible pain. She wasn't quite sure if he was in pain or if he was feeling intense pleasure. His face was all twisted up with whatever he was feeling. She hoped it was pleasure. He'd tell her to stop if she was hurting him, surely?

After a few minutes of fumbling, and trying a few different things, she finally settled into a rhythm that had him moaning continuously. She started at the very base, where the coarse hairs tickled her hand, and worked her way to the head. She worked neither very fast nor very slowly and her grip was firm. She had tried grasping more loosely and more tightly, and although he had almost seemed to like her tightest grip the best, her current grip was the one she felt up to maintaining for longer.

Sansa thought the feel of him was the most interesting thing in the world. How the impossibly smooth, thin skin seemed to follow along under her hand. She was entranced at the feel of it covering the head, and then at the how she was able to pull it back to expose the wet, sticky tip. It was almost as if she were sliding silk along steel.

She had been maintaining this rhythm for a little while, when the moans Stannis had been making changed into sounds that were much more desperate. He was lifting his hips to meet her on every downward stroke now, and the movement was becoming very uncontrolled and jerky.

“Faster, ple – ah – _please_ , Sansa – !” he gasped out, looking completely lost to all reason. His head was thrown back, eyes shut and teeth slightly bared. His hands were clutching at the bedspread again, as if he were holding on for dear life.

She sped her movements up and tightened her grip a little, watching his face in fascination. It really did look remarkably like he was being tortured. The sounds he was making were also increasingly starting to resemble that of someone who was being used as a punching bag. He obviously liked it, however, since he was still bucking up to meet her hand with every stroke. She tried to keep the frantic pace that he had asked for, and suddenly - finally, her hand was getting so tired - he surged forward into her hand with more force than ever before. The sound he made was truly a decadent and drawn out exhalation, and hearing it was enough to start heat gathering between her thighs again.

Sansa tried to focus on something else to cool herself down. She noticed a lot of very warm, very wet liquid coating the back of her hand, and was struck by how _messy_ all this was.

She subtly tried to wipe most of the stuff off as she delicately drew her hand back from under the towel, but even so, her hand was still glistening with it. She glanced at Stannis, wondering if he was observing her awkwardness. He wasn't. His eyes were still closed, and he was taking very controlled and measured breaths. 

He finally looked a little less tense around the shoulders, she noted with satisfaction.

As if he could sense her gaze on him, he opened his eyes to look at her. She felt herself blush in response. When would she stop doing that? She had just been touching his cock. He should be able to look at her without her blushing.

“I'm just – uh – going to...” She gestured at her sticky hand, and then at the bathroom. Hopefully he would understand her masterful communication to mean that she wanted to wash her hands. She scurried off the bed and into the en suite, mindful of the fact that she was giving him quite a view of her legs, but unable to care very much since she was just trying to focus on not stumbling due to her heels and her very wobbly knees.

She didn't close the door since she was just washing her hands, so she heard Stannis drop his towel - _must not peek_ \- and fumble around with fabric. Probably getting dressed, she thought. She waited for a few beats when she was done drying her hands off, giving him a chance to finish dressing, before she returned to him. 

He was standing by the bedroom door, wearing simple cotton sleepwear in dark colours. It was strange to see him in such casual attire, and more intimate somehow than seeing him in his exercising gear. He looked younger without the customary armour provided by his suit and tie. His habitual scowl was absent, which also went a long way towards making him appear younger.

Stannis opened the door when he saw her, an unreadable expression on his face. He held it open for her and followed her through it to the living room. He walked quietly. Sansa kept wanting to turn around to see if he was still behind her.

“Would you care for anything to drink?” Stannis offered formally when they neared the kitchen. “I have some lemonade...”

Sansa paused and turned around to face him. He looked incredibly uncomfortable in the role of gracious host.

Sansa suppressed a smile. Her younger self would have been so appalled at having Stannis as a boyfriend. (She still needed to find a better word. She felt ridiculous referring to him as her boyfriend.) Young, carefree pre-Joffrey Sansa would not have considered someone as serious and stiff-mannered to be remotely interesting, romantically.

She had dreamt of being swept away by someone like the singers in the boy-bands she had liked. Someone who was handsome and charming, who knew all the right words to say, and would smile at her and dedicate songs to her.

Stannis was nothing at all like that. He was much better.

“Yes, please,” Sansa accepted, wondering if Stannis had made the lemonade from scratch. She had a feeling that most ready-made brands of lemonade would be too sweet for him, but she couldn’t really picture him doing anything as domestic as making lemonade. She knew it was ridiculous of her; of course Stannis did domestic things. He probably did them very methodically, without making any unnecessary messes. Sansa bit her lip to suppress a smile.

The kitchen was outfitted with a high bench and bar stools in place of a kitchen table. Sansa perched herself on one of the tall stools, trying to keep from flashing too much of her upper thigh. It was mostly out of habit, since she was surprisingly comfortable with her state of undress all of a sudden. Giving Stannis an eyeful just didn’t seem like a very big deal compared with giving him her first hand-job. She also liked the way Stannis kept shooting her furtive glances. He must really like the way she looked in his shirt if he was still eager to stare, post-orgasm.

Stannis handed her a glass of lemonade and poured one for himself as well. Instead of sitting on the bar stool next to her, he remained standing on the other side of the counter. A little like he was the bartender, and she was the patron.

She sipped at her lemonade, pleasantly surprised at the taste. She had expected it to be terribly sour, but it was refreshingly sharp instead.

“Mm, it’s good!” Sansa smiled. “Did you make it?”

Stannis nodded and took a large, thirsty gulp from his own glass.

Sansa waited for a few moments, but the silence they were sharing felt less comfortable than many quiet moments they had spent together, so she decided that they should talk about what had just happened.

“I’ve never done anything like what we just did with anyone,” she confessed, looking down at her drink instead of at Stannis. “I wasn’t terrible, was I?” She tried to inject some humour into her tone, but she probably just sounded vulnerable instead. She was pretty confident that she hadn’t been terrible, but she wanted to be reassured regardless. She peeked at Stannis to read his reaction.

He was considering her very seriously. Then he starting speaking in a very hoarse voice, stopped to clear his throat, and continued to speak in a slightly less hoarse voice.

“You - You are very - ” Stannis paused. “It’s been a long time for me.” He stopped and just looked at her intensely, and she noticed that his eyes were still darker than normal.

Sansa wanted to ask how long exactly. Had he really not touched a woman since Selyse left him? She held herself back, not really wanting to go down that road. He was willing to tell her it had been a long time. That was enough.

“So you would have liked whatever I did, huh?” This time Sansa definitely managed to sound amused, even as she desperately hoped he would contradict her.

Stannis looked at her with the same sort of slightly panicked expression her father sometimes got when her mother asked him if something made her look fat.

“I - No! That's not what I - “ Stannis started, but stopped and looked at his glass in frustration. Then he looked at Sansa with heat in his eyes. “It was very good.” The two spots of colour had appeared high in his cheeks. He seemed to be willing her to understand him.

Sansa understood. She smiled at him and felt a thrilling sense of victory. Despite her inexperience, she had totally rocked his world. Hah!

Stannis looked relieved for a moment, but then he was frowning - worry lines appearing between his eyebrows and on his forehead.

“Sansa, you would tell me if I ever…” Stannis seemed to be grasping for the right words, “... went too far?” His eyes scoured her face for a reaction, and she couldn’t help the blush that appeared in response to the question and the intense gaze.

“Why would you even worry about that?” Sansa stalled, unsure of how to answer him. She didn’t know if she’d _want_ to stop him if he went ‘too far’. She wanted to have sex. She was curious about sex, but she also wanted to be sure that any sex she ended up having was actually making love. Even if Margaery made fun of her for using that term un-ironically.

After her experience with Joffrey, who hadn’t shown his true colours until they had been together for more than a month, she was nervous about committing her heart to Stannis fully. She was relatively certain that Stannis was safe, and that she could trust him not to turn into a horrible person. Otherwise she would never have allowed things to progress this far, but Sansa knew she wouldn’t be ready for sex until she was _sure._ She would have to be strong enough to tell him to stop if he crossed the line before she was ready. 

The fact that he’d asked her if she would be able to do that, meant that Stannis didn’t want to unintentionally pressure her into doing anything before she was ready. Her heart melted a little in her chest when she realised this.

“I don’t want you to do anything that you’re not comfortable with. Not for my sake,” Stannis said stiffly, looking more worried than ever. This only confirmed what Sansa had thought.

“Well, I won’t offer to do anything I don’t want to do,” Sansa said after considering his words for a moment, worrying at her bottom lip, “and maybe you can hold off on asking me for anything more than we’ve already done for a little while?” she added a little uncertainly. Was this too much to ask?

She shouldn’t have worried. Stannis looked far from annoyed. He looked relieved to have some ground rules to follow. At least she thought so, as he was nodding solemnly at her.

Sansa blushed at what she decided to say next.

“You can ask for more of what we’ve already done as much as you want, though. I think I'd like that.” She met his eyes despite her burning cheeks, and held his gaze for a few fevered moments. She really liked the effect her words had on him. She watched as his pupils dilated to their furthest extent, and his lips parted slightly as he drew a longer breath than necessary. Then he broke their eye contact and drained the rest of his lemonade.

Sansa glanced at the kitchen clock and noticed that it was still relatively early.

“If you weren’t planning on doing anything in particular, do you think - I mean, would you like to watch a film or a TV show?” Sansa felt a little tongue-tied after the look Stannis had just given her, but she really wanted to move them to the couch somehow. She had a feeling that if she let the tension keep building, they’d end up making out on the kitchen floor or something.

Stannis scrunched up his eyebrows and looked at the ceiling. “I don’t recall anything pressing. I had intended to read a report, but it can wait until tomorrow.”

Sansa smiled and jumped off her bar stool. “Great! What’s your favourite film?”

Stannis admitted to a preference for old, historical war movies, while Sansa liked anything with a little (a lot of) romance. Stannis didn’t collect films, though Shireen kept a stash of old Disney DVDs, a smattering of teen movies and rom-coms in his apartment. Sansa decided to spare him any of those, so they ended up watching an old black and white classic that they found on one of the hundreds of television channels Stannis had access to. 

Sansa kicked off her heels and curled up next to Stannis, who obligingly put his arm around her. As the film progressed, he started stroking her hair and Sansa thought she might be in heaven. At the end of the film she somehow found herself lying with her head on a pillow in his lap, practically boneless with pleasure due to his ministrations. She’d been to hair salons for deep conditioning treatments and had always enjoyed the scalp massages the hair stylists gave her, but this was so much better. Drawn out and gentle, his short fingernails occasionally dragging across the sensitive skin at the back of her head and down to her neck, the touch of his hands was like having a precious wish granted.

“I’m never leaving,” she told him sleepily just as the actor on the screen declared that he thought this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship, and the credits started to roll.

Stannis let out a breath that sounded like the world’s shortest laugh.

“Do you think we could spend an entire day together? Sometime soon?” Sansa wondered out loud. She wanted to spend more time with Stannis casually, not dressed up to the nines and trying to impress each other.

“Shireen is coming home next week.” Stannis was still stroking her, but had moved from her hair to her uncovered forearm. When he raked his fingernails from the inside of her wrist to the inside of her elbow, goosebumps sprang up over her entire body at the sensation.

“I was thinking of taking her to the beach for a few days. Robert has a beach house a few hours south of Kings Landing. Perhaps you would like to join us?”

Sansa sat up so that she could look at Stannis and see whether he was being serious. She couldn’t imagine him ever joking about such a thing, but it just sounded too good to be true.

“Really?” Her voice came out alarmingly high-pitched, not disguising her excitement even a little. Several days alone with Stannis and Shireen at the beach would be amazing.

“You’d need permission from your parents, and I’ll have to run it by Shireen first of all, of course,” Stannis added thoughtfully.

“If she’s all right with me coming with you two, then I would love to go,” Sansa said, her voice sounding a little breathy with happiness, but not quite as over the top as before. She decided to kiss him for emphasis. Before it could turn into another lengthy make-out session, Stannis reluctantly broke the kiss.

“I’ll take you home.” He sounded firm, but she could tell that he didn’t really want her to go. It was all in the way he was still holding her tightly, even though they were no longer kissing.

Sansa put up a token resistance to the idea of him driving her, but she was glad that she didn’t have to take another taxi. This way she’d have a little more time with Stannis.

She changed back into her dress and found her heels on the floor in front of the sofa. They spent the trip in the car discussing the film they had watched, Stannis explaining where the film fit into history - something that Sansa had never quite understood properly - and Sansa arguing that the relationship between the two main characters had been more romantic due to the fact that they couldn’t be together at the end. Stannis disagreed vehemently, and she teased him about being a secret fan of the ‘happily ever after’.

“Well, would you think it romantic if the person you loved decided to move to the other end of the earth and never see you again?” he asked her, sounding frustrated.

Sansa realised that even though Stannis and Selyse hadn’t really been star-crossed lovers or anything, this was sort of what had happened to him. She immediately felt bad for what she had been saying.

“No,” she admitted, voice small, “I suppose I just watched too many ballets growing up. They’re all so tragic,” she added, hoping to explain herself a little. When Stannis didn’t reply, she decided to reveal a little of her hope for her own future.

“The most romantic relationship I’ve ever known is really my parents’ relationship. That’s what I want one day.” She smiled at the thought.

Stannis nodded in agreement. They didn’t speak of it further for the rest of the drive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The film they watch is of course _Casablanca_ , in case that was unclear.


	11. Sleeping arrangements

Stannis did his absolute best to avoid being in Eddard’s vicinity at Sansa’s graduation party. He felt even worse about meeting the man’s eyes than he had felt after the Jeep Incident. What if Eddard could somehow see in his eyes what he’d been doing with Sansa the previous evening? It was a crazy idea, but he took steps to avoid him nonetheless.

Of course Robert picked up on his discomfort immediately and cornered him soon after Sansa cut her graduation cake. She looked radiant in an ivory sundress with a full skirt that reached her knees, but he was having a hard time looking at her, too. He kept flashing back to what she had looked like last night, in his shirt, in those stockings, _with his cock in her hand_.

“What did you do?” Robert raised an eyebrow, but uncharacteristically did not raise his voice so that everyone in the room could hear.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Stannis bit out quickly. Too quickly. Robert put on a show of being an affable idiot, but his older brother was not a complete fool.

“Stannis, I watched you grow up. I can tell when you’re feeling guilty about something. Remember father’s cigars?” Robert chortled, and Stannis flushed at the reference to a particularly embarrassing childhood incident. He had only been five years old, how was he to know that their father wouldn’t want his expensive Cuban cigars to be the ‘logs’ under the fire in his politically incorrect game of cowboys and Indians?

“Come on, you may as well tell me. You’re avoiding Ned, so I assume you did something with Sansa? Bend her over a table at last?” Robert’s eyes were alive with glee.

“I will _not_ discuss this with you,” Stannis hissed through clenched teeth, his eyes frantically scanning the faces closest to them for any hint that they were being overheard. So far it seemed they were thankfully not attracting any such attention. His imagination was not supplying him with images of Sansa in his shirt, in those stockings, bent over his desk. No.

Stannis sucked in a breath that made his nostrils flare slightly.

“Oho! So you did do something with her. It’s rude not to share with your less fortunate brothers. I haven’t been with an eighteen year old in ten years!” Robert was obviously just saying these things to torture him, but Stannis saw that behind the façade of the joke there was genuine interest. Stannis had no idea how to respond to that. He decided to change the subject. If just to distract his overactive imagination.

“Was Lyanna like Sansa? I can’t recall.” He tried to sound bored and unconcerned. A hint of curiosity probably broke through. He’d been meaning to ask Robert about this.

Robert’s face seemed to tighten up, a shadow passing over it. Stannis was reminded of storm clouds suddenly appearing to obscure a bright, sunny day.

“Lyanna had the Stark look. Sansa is all Tully.” He muttered. Stannis kept quiet, hoping his silence would entice Robert to elaborate.

“She was my dream girl, Stannis. I would have gone to the edge of the world for her. I would have given up Baratheon Industries. Anything.” Robert frowned and took a deep drink from his glass of wine. Stannis remained silent, observing every movement of Robert’s face. He could read the grief and the loss etched there, bone-deep.

“What happened?” Stannis prompted when the silence had stretched on for a few minutes.

“She died in a motorcycle accident. Accepted a ride from Rhaegar Targaryen.” Robert spat. The rage and the loss looked almost fresh in his eyes. “There was a car - the driver didn’t see them in time.” There was a short pause. “Drunk.”

Stannis felt as if shards of ice were running down his spine. Their parents had died in a car crash. Had Robert really lost his dream girl to such a painful, senseless death as well? He had known that she had passed away, but why had he never bothered to find out the details before now? He’d been abroad at school when it had happened, and his relationship with Robert had always been strained at best - only worsening after the death of their parents - but he felt a pang of guilt at his failure.

When he had returned from school, Cersei had already entered the picture, and he supposed it would have felt rude to bring up Robert’s past flame after that. Still, he could have asked Eddard.

“Targaryen…” Stannis muttered, half remembering something about the heir to the biggest family-owned oil company in the world dying in a tragic car wreck.

“He was always after her, showing off and trying to charm her away from me. Probably only got the motorcycle to impress her. Cocky bastard should have let her drive!” Robert sounded half bitter, half terribly sad. “She would have driven circles around him,” Robert said, a note of finality and fondness in his tone. 

Stannis sensed that Robert wouldn’t want to say more on the subject so he was surprised when his brother spoke again. His surprise faded into aggravation when he realised that Robert had changed the subject back to Sansa.

“Enough about that, tell me what Sansa is like. I bet she’s a wild one in the sack just like her mother! Ned always refuses to say outright about Cat, but I can tell!” Robert seemed to have buried his melancholy under his armour of brash humour. It had happened so fast that Stannis would have missed it if he had blinked.

Stannis let out a long-suffering sigh in response to Robert’s words, and stalked off with a scowl and two bright red spots high in his cheeks. Robert let him leave, but laughed uproariously at his expense. Stannis ground his teeth together in frustration at the sound, knowing there was nothing he could do about it.

“Stannis, did you have any cake alrea- are you all right?” 

Stannis had almost walked right into Sansa. She had obviously been looking for him, carrying her own plate of French chocolate cake, decorated with a smattering of small red berries. She was looking at him with wide, concerned eyes. There was a little bit of chocolate stuck to her bottom lip, and Stannis forgot why he was upset when he saw it. All that he knew was that he wanted to kiss her and lick the chocolate away. He was sure it would taste better for having touched her lips.

“Stannis?” she repeated, sounding even more concerned.

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to clear his head and remember what was happening. He’d been trying to escape Robert. He was annoyed because his brother had been laughing at him. Now he was being a besotted idiot. Excellent.

“Fine. I’m fine. You know I don’t care for sweets.” He winced when he sounded a lot more annoyed than he intended to. He could see that Sansa was surprised and a little hurt at his tone, although she hid it well.

“It’s dark chocolate, so I thought you’d at least want to try it. I could save you a piece if you like? It’s disappearing fast.” She sounded so sweet, offering to save him some cake - after he’d just snapped at her - it made him feel like a first rate arse.

“I - uh, perhaps. Dark chocolate?” He glanced at her plate again, eyeing the thin slice critically.

“Would you like to taste some of mine, first?” She smiled and used her fork to gather some of the decadent-looking cake, holding it up and offering to feed it to him. As if nothing were more natural than feeding him cake off her own plate. In front of other people. Stannis looked around nervously. Robert was still in the room he had just left, and Sansa’s immediate family members were engaged elsewhere. No one seemed to be outright _staring_ at them, though he thought he could see a few discreet glances being thrown their way.

When he opened his mouth to reply, Sansa used the opportunity and stuck the fork in, grinning impishly at him. He glared at her halfheartedly, and noted that the cake was actually delicious. Rich, dark, and just a little bitter. He wouldn’t want much of it, but a small piece would be welcome.

“If it’s not too much trouble, a small piece?” he asked meekly when the last of the chocolate had melted from his tongue and Sansa had raised her eyebrows at him in a silent, _“so?”_.

“Sure!” she chirped, “I’ll leave a plate in the kitchen for you.” With a flurry of skirts, and a peck on the cheek that had him looking nervously around again, she turned and left.

It took some quick maneuvering, but Stannis managed to keep avoiding Eddard. He suspected Robert had actually been helping him by keeping Eddard occupied, and was grudgingly thankful for it. He did have to suffer through some amused looks from Robb and Jon, and the obligatory small talk with Catelyn, as she was the hostess. It was extremely uncomfortable, but the scripted polite words got Stannis through it.

Mostly Stannis lurked in corners, as far from other guests as he could stand, eyes irresistibly drawn to Sansa whenever she was in the same room. He did his best not to think about last night, and picked at his cake after he found it waiting for him in the kitchen.

“Do you want to play some chess?”

Stannis started. He had been in the middle of certainly _not_ thinking about the time that Sansa had brought him a box of chocolate at the lodge and their subsequent chocolate flavoured kisses. He looked down to see Arya looking at him with a bored expression.

Stannis frowned. Chess would probably help distract him from his roaming thoughts and keeping Arya occupied was never an entirely bad idea. He nodded at the girl, gesturing for her to lead the way.

She started rushing to the small table that was always set up for chess. Stannis followed along at a more sedate pace.

Once they had started playing, Arya white and Stannis black, they were silent and focused for a while, just moving the pieces quietly.

“Why do you want Sansa for your girlfriend?” Arya asked after killing one of his pawns. Annoyed at the loss of the pawn, and a little blindsided by the question, Stannis answered before really thinking.

“None of your business.” He killed one of her pawns, evening the score.

Arya made a face and stared the board, thinking furiously. “She’s so _boring,_ ” she complained, voice full of sisterly disdain.

Stannis studied the board as well, calculating, thinking, planning. “I don’t think she’s boring,” he said mildly.

Thinking of all the different moments he had spent in Sansa’s company over the past few weeks, Stannis would certainly not describe any of them as boring. Arya was still young enough to be unaware of the type of charms her sister was blessed with - in spades - seeing only that Sansa was less reckless, and more ladylike than herself. While Arya spent her formative years running around, rolling in the mud and climbing trees, Sansa made sure her clothes stayed clean, and took ballet. Stannis was amazed at how different two sisters could be.

Arya tipped over one of his knights, causing him to lock his jaw. It had been a reckless, short-sighted move. He’d take her bishop now, and she’d have to scramble to defend her king. He did so, satisfied at the sound of dismay she made.

She huffed out an annoyed breath and crossed her arms. “Can’t you just take her, then? I could have her room if you did.” She seemed to brighten slightly at the idea. Stannis got a little stuck on the thought of _taking_ Sansa. Just picking her up, throwing her into bed and… He quickly recovered from his dangerous train of thought, clearing his throat.

“She’s going away to school at the end of the summer, isn’t that enough?” He arched an eyebrow.

“But there’s the _whole summer_ first,” Arya whined, despondent. She moved to defend her king on the board. Just as Stannis had predicted.

“Perhaps I will be able to relieve you of her company occasionally.” He thought of the beach house holiday he hoped to take Sansa on, should Shireen approve. With a slightly distant look on his face, he moved his queen into position, defending his other knight.

Arya took another pawn. “Please do. Then I won’t have to hear her talking about you _all the time._ ” She rolled her eyes dramatically.

Stannis quickly masked his surprise. Sansa talked about him? What did she say? Would it be appropriate for him to ask Arya about it? No, he shouldn’t snoop. He made a noncommittal noise instead. Pretending to be absorbed in the game.

“ _Will Stannis like this dress? What would Stannis think of this? Oh, Stannis said something about that!_ ” Arya made silly faces and changed her voice to sound like a very vapid version of her sister. “Honestly, she never shuts up,” she snorted.

Stannis, secretly very pleased that Arya had chosen to keep talking, quietly chastened Arya for lacking tact. She stuck her tongue out at him rebelliously. He had to bite his own tongue to hide his amusement.

He felt very bolstered by the knowledge that Sansa talked about him, cared about his opinions and remembered his words. When his rational mind was on a mission to convince him that Sansa couldn’t _really_ like someone like him, or at least not for very long, it was pleasantly surprising to constantly be faced with evidence indicating her genuine interest in him. He was so used to the opposite happening, for the world to heap misery and difficulties on his shoulders, that being handed Sansa and her affection was almost beyond him. He barely knew how to react to good things, so he couldn’t help but be wary. _The other shoe might still drop any day now._

It took Stannis only six more moves to reach a check-mate, despite a few wild attacks from Arya. He generally enjoyed facing Arya at chess because she could be an interestingly unpredictable opponent. It kept him on his toes, always considering every possible attack. She was a good sport about losing, too.

“I’ll get you next time!” she said cheerfully, bounding off and leaving Stannis to return all the pieces to their proper places. As the winner, that was his chore. He didn’t mind as it prolonged his solitude. He was nearly finished when a voice, which was quickly becoming his favourite, floated over to him.

“I thought I saw Arya drag you in here. She wasn’t being a pain, was she?” Sansa had found him.

“Not at all, we were just brushing up on our military tactics.” He held up the white knight he had been about to place on the board.

“Of course,” she smiled, “Mum wanted to know if you’d like to stay for dinner. Robert is probably going to eat with us, he’s dragged Dad to the garage and they’re elbow deep in the engine of Dad’s stupid old car. They’ll be at it for hours.”

Dinner with the parents and Robert? Stannis grimaced.

“Ah, I do have some work I need to catch up on. As I recall, something prevented me from getting it done last night.” He quirked an eyebrow at her, keeping his tone light.

Sansa looked a little abashed, but kept smiling. “I’ll tell her you’re busy.” She walked towards him until she was close enough to touch. “Did you find your cake?” She looked up at him, resplendent in her white dress, her blue eyes framed with impossibly long lashes, her coppery hair curled for the occasion, tumbling over her shoulders and down her back in a way that begged him to run his hands through it.

He swallowed thickly and nodded.

“Good.” She kissed him then, tasting of dark chocolate and redcurrant, and he savoured her with much more pleasure than he had his slice of cake.

This kiss was over much too soon, and Sansa whispered something about chocolate in his ear, and then she was out of his reach and talking about other guests and her duties. He stood still for a while after she was gone, wishing he could simply do as Arya had suggested and take Sansa away. Keep her all to himself and bask in the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Voices outside the door stirred him from his thoughts and into action. He had stayed at the party for long enough. He should leave while he still had some sense.

Or perhaps it was too late for that?

***

Stannis was standing around at the airport, waiting for Shireen to walk through the arrivals gate. It was rather dull, but Stannis made a point of picking Shireen up himself. The wait was always worth it when Shireen’s face lit up at the sight of him. He was incredibly grateful for the fact that his absentee parenting had not resulted in Shireen being indifferent to him. He loved her fiercely, but had never quite known how to show it. Thankfully, his daughter was blessed with a keen insight into the human condition, and seemed to understand him well enough.

Stannis let his eyes wander after having - yet again - checked the information screen and read that the flight was on time. There were a few scattered individuals like him, obviously waiting to greet a loved one. Most of the people around him were wearing uniforms and holding tablets that would soon be used to display the names of the people they had been hired to pick up. Currently, most of the drivers were using the tablets to pass the time, either reading the news or playing strange games involving projectile fruit, or very grim cartoon birds. A few drivers had paper signs, and were jealously observing their more technologically advanced peers.

The queue for the coffee place was still much too long for Stannis to bother with. Those places never served very good tea, anyway. Additionally, listening to people order ridiculous, extravagant drinks that apparently passed for coffee these days, always set his teeth on edge. He didn’t want to ruin his mood more than the airport traffic had already, but he kept glancing towards the coffee place anyway, because one of the baristas had long red hair and she reminded him of Sansa.

Being reminded of Sansa was always a risk. Especially in public. If he started to think about Sansa, he could very easily start thinking about Sansa in nothing but his shirt, some very interesting looking underwear - from what little he had managed to glimpse - and those lacy thigh-high stockings that she favoured. Had she somehow picked those stockings right out of his fantasies? Was she, in her entirety, somehow a fantasy come to life? Stannis sometimes felt convinced that she was. No one could really be that perfect, and if such perfection did exist, they would never want to spend time with him just because they _liked his personality._

Yet, that seemed to be the case. No amount of pinching himself seemed to be waking him up from this dream life. So he simply tried not to think about Sansa too much in public, because that could get embarrassing. If he started to think about the shirt and the stockings and _everything_ he tended to end up staring into space, breathing irregularly, and needing to sit down and cover his lap with something. Which was completely undignified and absurd.

When Shireen finally arrived, Stannis was focusing intently on remembering every last boring detail from the memo that Davos had sent him that morning. Definitely not thinking about the way Sansa had sounded when she was breathless with arousal and pleading for him to…

“Daddy!” Shireen arrived just in time to rescue Stannis from having to go splash some cold water on his face. He was glad to note that focusing his attention on his daughter worked much better to stop himself getting carried away with thoughts of Sansa than concentrating on a boring memo.

They shared a brief hug once Shireen reached him, and Stannis couldn’t help but marvel at the changes the last few months had wrought. Shireen had grown taller, and she was starting to look much more a teenager than a child. It was strange, and he found himself hoping that she would still behave the same way she always had towards him despite these changes.

“You look taller,” he told her in lieu of a more affectionate greeting, and took her luggage.

“I missed you too, Dad,” Shireen said wryly, smiling up at him. She always understood him. So far he could not observe any negative changes due to her growth spurt. Of course, the real test would come when he asked her about his plans to bring Sansa on their holiday.

Their beach holiday had been a tradition for many years. Selyse had sometimes accompanied them (before the divorce) but she had mostly left them to their own devices. 

As Shireen and Stannis shared a deep appreciation for the ocean, and for sailing, they tended to spend more time on the boat that was docked near the house than in the house itself. It was a special father-daughter retreat, and he was quite worried that she’d feel cast aside if he asked to bring Sansa. He would understand it if she became upset.

Stannis wasn’t quite sure what he’d been thinking, inviting Sansa to join them. He supposed that he wanted Sansa and Shireen to get a chance to spend some time together, and he really wanted a lot of uninterrupted, _chaperoned_ time with Sansa. That way they could continue building a more solid relationship, and she wouldn’t be able to blindside him with sexy lingerie. Not that he minded her doing that on principle. It was just difficult to deal with when he knew she wasn’t ready for him to fuck her senseless. And she’d never be ready for that if he didn’t earn her trust and respect first.

Who was he kidding? Even if he took her on three chaperoned beach holidays - allowing him plenty of time to get to know her and hopefully earn her trust - she would probably come to her senses and leave him long before they ever got around to attempting sex. He should just retract the offer to take her on his holiday with Shireen. Except he really didn’t want to.

“Daddy, are you all right?” Shireen was looking at him curiously. Stannis had been on autopilot, his thoughts miles away. He had manged to accompany Shireen to the parking lot, and he had obviously already stowed her luggage in the boot and boarded the car. But he had a feeling that he had been sitting and staring out the windshield without starting the engine for longer than normal.

“Yes, of course,” Stannis lied, and started the car. 

Stannis asked Shireen how school had been, and she launched into a happy account of her time away from home as they left the airport behind. Her stories lasted them all the way to Kings Landing, and all through dinner at her favourite restaurant as well.

When Shireen ran out of stories - just as dessert was being served - Stannis decided it was time to broach the subject of Sansa. He waited until Shireen had her mouth full of chocolate mousse, hoping to avoid untimely interruptions.

“Shireen, I have some news to share with you, and a question I would like to ask,” he began, clamping down on the urge to fidget with the delicate china in front of him. (He hadn’t ordered any dessert, only a cup of tea. It was tolerable, although it had been left to steep for a bit too long.)

Shireen was looking at him encouragingly and polishing off her mousse at an alarmingly rapid pace. Stannis hurried to continue.

“I assume you remember Sansa Stark? She’s been at all of Robert’s Christmas parties since you were born.” Stannis paused to check whether Shireen would need further clarification but she was nodding and giving him that dreaded look teenage girls seemed to master the second they turned thirteen. He had started to think of it as the _‘duh, of course’_ look.

“Yes. Well.” Now that he had to admit to his daughter that he was in a relationship with a girl who was closer to Shireen in age than she was to him, it was difficult to find the words. 

He took a deep breath and reminded himself that Sansa was a woman, not a girl. A woman who knew her own mind, and wished to be in a relationship with him. (Against all odds.) People with bigger age gaps got together all the time. He was not an old lech. He was _not_.

His throat was also strangely dry. To remedy this he took an ill-advisedly large sip of his tea and singed his tongue. He scowled at his cup in annoyance.

Eventually he spoke, ignoring his burnt tongue. “Sansa and I are together.” He was proud of how calm and collected he had sounded. Dignified, mature. If his face was a little warm it was just because of the hot tea.

“Dad, are you joking?” Shireen stared at him, clearly unsure of how to respond to his statement.

“Do I look like I am?” Stannis couldn’t help the tinge of annoyance that crept into his tone. Shireen should know better than to ask him that. He raised an eyebrow at her in challenge.

He expected her to be upset, or possibly angry. Her reaction took him completely by surprise.

“I didn’t think you were ever going to get a girlfriend! It’s about time.” She smiled at him and tried to scrape the last of her mousse from its little cup. She looked supremely unconcerned, not a trace of agitation. Stannis was almost disappointed. He had prepared for an argument. However, this was not an unpleasant development. Antagonism between Sansa and Shireen was the last thing he wanted.

Stannis was about to bring the conversation around to the question of whether Sansa could join them on their holiday when Shireen started talking again.

“But how did you get her to go out with you? She’s the prettiest girl in Westeros.” She sounded puzzled and impressed. After a short pause her face fell and she hurried to add - “Not that you’re not a terrific catch! It’s just, er, most people don’t know that about you.” She gave him a crooked smile.

Stannis wasn’t offended. He asked himself the same question every day.

“I - We - Uh.” Stannis cleared his throat. So much for mature and dignified. “We discovered a mutual liking for each other last Easter. At the lodge,” he explained formally.

“Go Dad.” She smirked at him and he felt his face get even warmer. He should have ordered a cold drink.

Stannis cleared his throat. He desperately wanted to change to topic of conversation, but he still needed to ask Shireen about the holiday plans. “That brings me to the question I wanted to ask you.”

Shireen looked at him attentively, smirk gone. Thank the gods. Daughters should not be allowed to smirk insolently at their fathers.

“Would it be all right if Sansa joined us at the beach house?” Deep breaths.

Stannis searched Shireen’s face for clues. It was not difficult to read her. She was giving him that wretched _‘duh, of course’_ look again.

“Yes, of course that’s fine.” She rolled her eyes the way teenagers always do, and smiled widely at him. Normally he would tell her off for rolling her eyes at him, but he was too consumed with happy relief to have the heart to scold her.

“If - “ Shireen started pointedly, getting his attention, (What did she want? She could have it, whatever it was.) “If you promise not to spend the whole vacation making out with her and ignoring me,” she finished, obviously teasing him.

Stannis blew out a loud breath and looked at the ceiling. He supposed it was only natural for her to tease him about this, but it was strange and discomfiting for him. He hastily changed the subject to her grades, and that overrode the playful mood -- Shireen’s grades were always excellent, but it was a serious topic none the less.

Once they had left the restaurant and made it back to the apartment, Shireen said she wanted to unpack. Stannis made sure she knew that he was available if she wanted to discuss anything further with him, and retired to his study.

After an hour of frustrating work related emails, reports and memos, Stannis decided to take a break and write Sansa a note.

_Sansa -_  
_I spoke to Shireen. She’s happy to have you along on our holiday._

Stannis wasn’t sure if he should add anything about how Shireen had reacted to the news of their relationship. After thinking it over, he decided not to. If she asked he would tell her, but at the moment he couldn’t think of a good way to present the information.

_I trust you will talk the matter over with your parents?_  
_I hope you will be able to join us. The seaside is particularly pleasant at this time of year._  
_-SB_

Sansa was unusually prompt about replying. It had only been fifteen minutes when his computer notified him of a new message from her.

_My parents don’t get to make those decisions for me, but as it happens they’re fine with it. Dad asked if Shireen would definitely be there about a hundred times, but yeah. It’s okay. I can’t wait! What should I pack?_  
_Will we be sharing a room? Shall I need my nice nightgowns? ;)_  
_Say hello to Shireen from me!_  
_XOXO Sansa_

Stannis froze for several moments after reading the missive. He had not spared a single thought regarding sleeping arrangements. He had been busy worrying about whether Sansa would be able to come along at all. Now that it was settled, it seemed to be a very relevant question.

If they slept in the same room, then his idea of a chaperoned trip where he would be unable to accost her was completely ruined. In the middle of the night, with Shireen asleep, he’d be able to get away with all sorts of things. Very interesting things. Maybe more of the things they’d done in his bedroom a week ago…

Stannis shook his head to clear it.

What did she mean by nice nightgowns? What was the winking emoticon for? (Stannis did not like emoticons). Did it mean that she was just joking? Generally she used it when she was flirting. How could he be sure? Face-to-face conversation wasn’t exactly his forte, but it was at least a little less complicated than this.

Stannis rose from his seat and started pacing around his study in agitation.

He should make it clear that they would have separate bedrooms. It was the proper thing to do. Probably. Unless it was proper for them to share a bedroom, being in a relationship? Stannis was uncertain about the rules in this kind of situation. He was sure what Eddard would be _trusting_ him to do, but what Eddard didn’t know wouldn’t upset him...

Something on his computer screen caught his attention. Another message from Sansa? So soon?

_P.S. If we’re going to be sleeping in separate bedrooms, I’ll probably sneak into your room in the middle of the night. Fair warning._

Groaning, he collapsed into his chair again. 

Apparently, Sansa was determined to be the death of him, the minx. How tempting it would be, with her lying next to him and wearing next to nothing, to nudge her along until she gave him something she was not ready to give. He knew how responsive she was - he had managed to get her off without even using his fingers or his tongue - so he was confident that it would not be hard to get her all muddled up with pleasure, going further and further when she was helpless to resist, until she begged him to enter her...

 _No._ It was a _sickening_ idea. 

He would not manipulate her like that. It would be a terrible, dishonourable thing to do. He would not allow himself to become so low - so unworthy. If she wished to share his bed he would be satisfied with whatever she was willing to enthusiastically participate in. Even if it was just being held. Holding her was more than enough. Breathing in her scent and enjoying the warmth of her skin against his for an entire night would be a singular pleasure, in fact. 

He hadn’t had any company while he slept since the very earliest days of his marriage with Selyse. It was a comfort he had grown used to going without.

Before he could change his mind, he typed out a quick reply to Sansa.

_I hadn’t thought of the sleeping arrangements. If you are determined to sleep in my bed regardless of the arrangements I make, I suppose we might as well share a room._

Stannis considered adding a sentence asking her not to tell her parents about this, but decided against it. It made him sound too guilty. She’d probably have enough sense not to mention it to them.

_As for what you should pack, I imagine you’ve been to the beach before. Pack whatever you feel you might need for such a location. It is likely that we will go sailing, so if you wish to join Shireen and me on the boat, you might want to pack with that in mind. I won’t dictate your sleepwear, although I find that I’m curious about what constitutes a ‘nice’ nightgown._  
_-SB_

This done, he went back to his work. He had a very difficult time concentrating and kept checking his inbox to see if a reply from Sansa had arrived. An hour went by. Stannis only managed to read one report. Usually he was much more efficient, but he was slowed down because he kept reading the same sentences repeatedly without taking in their meaning.

Finally, a message arrived.

_Nice nightgowns are made of silk and feel lovely to touch. Nice nightgowns have lace details that are pretty. Nice nightgowns are much shorter than regular nightgowns. Nice nightgowns have shoulder straps that don’t stay up too well._

If Shireen had not been in the apartment, this message would probably have him undoing his fly and taking himself in hand. He could so easily visualise Sansa in a tiny little nightgown, a thin, lacy strap hanging off her shoulder and coming precariously close to exposing a breast - the hemline so short that if she bent over the lace of her underwear would be clearly visible. Or perhaps she would not be wearing any underwear?

Stannis clenched his jaw. Shireen was in her room. She might want to talk to him at any moment. He could not afford to indulge in yet another fantasy about Sansa. He’d just have to save it for his morning shower.

He took a few sharp breaths before replying to Sansa.

_As I have said before. I will not object to anything you choose to wear. Certainly not to anything like what you describe._  
_-SB_

He did not even attempt to work after sending the message. Instead he went to the room he had turned into a makeshift gym. 

A run on the treadmill and a few sets with his weights would hopefully allow him to blow off some steam.


	12. Dorne

Sansa could not believe how easy it had been to convince Stannis that they should share a room while they were on holiday. She didn’t really know why she had thought he would object, but she had been prepared to do whatever it took to get her way. Sleeping next to her boyfriend was something she had looked forward to doing since she was fourteen. She wanted to know what it would be like to be able to cuddle up to someone and drift off to sleep in a warm embrace. Waking up next to someone would be an experience, too. If she woke up before he did, she would wake him with a kiss. Maybe she should drop hints about how she wouldn’t mind being woken up with a kiss in case he was the early riser?

“Sansa, are you in there?” Margaery was waving her hand obnoxiously in front of Sansa’s face. Apparently, she had been trying to communicate with her for a while.

“Yeah, what’s up?” Sansa swatted Margaery’s hand away.

“The class is about to start, are you going in or what?” Margaery nodded towards the door that had just opened. Sweaty women pouring out, and the group Sansa and Margaery had been standing with was starting to file in.

Sansa and Margaery had both done ballet when they were younger, and they both went to the same gym for barre fitness classes, and occasionally for weight lifting. They often tried to coordinate their schedules so that they could keep each other company in class.

“Yes, of course. I was just thinking about the beach,” Sansa answered as she and Margaery headed for their usual spot at the barre.

“Oh yeah, how did it go? Will you be sharing a room with Stannis?” Margaery quizzed her distractedly as they started doing some basic stretches.

Sansa had told Margaery of her hope to convince Stannis that they should share a room. It had been Margaery who had suggested she sneak into his room if he gave her a room of her own.

“It went really well, actually. He didn’t even try to put up a fight... even encouraged me to bring my nice nightgowns.” Sansa blushed a little, but tried to focus on swinging her leg around to warm it up.

“Hah! I told you it was a good idea to give him a hand-job. He’ll give into your every whim, now!” Margaery cackled, causing Sansa to look around in alarm. She really didn’t want anyone to overhear. The other women in the class did not seem interested in their conversation, thankfully.

“Ssh, not so loud,” Sansa hushed Margaery anyway, just in case. “I hardly think it counts as ‘giving into my every whim’ when it’s something he obviously wants too,” she pointed out.

“Oh, he wants you in his bed all right. Are you going to have sex with him?” Margaery had her leg up on the barre, and was folding her body towards it, forehead just about touching the front of her calf. Sansa had been about to copy her, but faltered at the personal question.

“I - Uh. Maybe. Probably not - not so soon.” Sansa felt her face flushing, and the floor length mirrors that covered the walls did an admirable job of showing her just how much she was starting to resemble a tomato.

“What are you waiting for? Hand-jobs get boring fast.” Margaery sounded half exasperated, half amused.

“I just don’t want to rush into it,” Sansa said stubbornly. Did Margaery not remember about the promise Sansa had made to herself, not to have sex unless she knew she was in love and was loved in return?

Margaery looked all set to argue the matter further, but the instructor had arrived and was calling for attention. It wasn’t until the end of the class, when Sansa was sure that Margaery had forgot all about their conversation, that Margaery brought the matter up again.

“If you’re scared of losing your V-card to the wrong person, don’t be. It’s not actually a big deal. Society places way too heavy an emphasis on women treating their first time like some weird rite of passage. It’s sex. It’s meant to feel good. Not cause headaches.” Margaery sounded quite serious for once.

Sansa nodded to indicate that she’d heard her friend, but did not answer. In a way she thought Margaery was both right and wrong. She was right about how women shouldn’t feel pressured to guard their virginity like the hymen was some precious magical thing, but, Sansa _did_ think it was a sort of rite of passage. It would be the first time she would share her body with a man. Trust him completely. She would only get one first time and she wanted it to be with someone _worthy_. She chose to judge worth based on love.

“Anyway, I read somewhere that sex actually cures headaches, did you know?” Margaery was back to her frivolous self.

Sansa smiled and rolled her eyes at her friend.

***

Stannis and Shireen picked Sansa up early on Friday morning. Her parents were at work, but Robb and Jon were both home for the summer holidays. She was incredibly grateful to Jon for keeping Arya distracted while Sansa escaped to the car. While all of her siblings had been teasing her a little about her relationship with Stannis and the upcoming beach holiday, Arya had been the worst. Robb had actually had to intervene the previous evening because Arya would keep stealing things out of Sansa’s luggage and hiding them. When Sansa noticed and demanded her things back, Arya would pretend to be innocent and tell Sansa she must have misplaced them herself.

Sansa had been about to strangle Arya over a nightgown she had run off with when Robb had physically picked his youngest sister up, and carried her to the other side of the house to distract her with a game of chess.

Once Arya had gone to bed Robb had spoken to Sansa about the nightgown he’d seen.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t see it, and I won’t say anything to Dad. Only because you covered for me last time Jeyne was here, though.” He was wincing a little, and she didn’t know whether it was because he didn’t like the idea of her in such a small nightgown, or whether it was the memory of how Sansa had pretended that the underwear Jeyne accidentally left behind in Robb’s room was hers, and that it had must have just got mixed in with Robb’s laundry.

Sansa blushed to the roots of her hair and nodded gratefully.

She suspected that Robb had asked Jon to help keep Arya occupied when she was leaving for the car, and thought she was very lucky to have such understanding older brothers, or at least lucky that her older brothers owed her several favours.

It took a few hours to drive to Robert’s beach house, and although Shireen had been shy at first, Sansa spent most of the drive talking to the younger girl. Stannis would occasionally contribute, but seemed mostly content to allow the two of them to get reacquainted. Sansa had often talked to Shireen at Robert’s Christmas parties, but the younger girl had always been rather timid and quiet on those occasions. Sansa found out that once you got past the initial shyness, Shireen was a cheerful and sweet girl, with a lot of interesting things to say.

When they finally drove past a ridge that had been blocking their view of the ocean, Sansa’s breath was taken away. She was used to seeing the ocean from King’s Landing, but that was Blackwater Bay, nothing very special or beautiful about it. They were in Dorne, now. The ocean here was a gorgeous periwinkle blue under a cloudless sky, and there were white beaches for as far as the eye could see.

“It’s beautiful!” Sansa exclaimed, awe in her voice. It was her first time in Dorne, although she knew her father had sometimes borrowed the beach house from Robert. On those occasions she had never been invited along. None of the Stark children had. Sansa suspected her father liked to use the house to get some time alone with her mother. She tried not to think too hard about it.

“Do you see the little white house, furthest from the town?” Stannis pointed towards a little house that was situated right on the beach. She nodded. “That’s where we’re headed,” Stannis told her, and Sansa thought that it must nearly get swallowed up during high tide.

“I can see Proudwing!” Shireen excitedly pointed at the small vessel tied to the dock, not far from the house.

“That’s an odd name for a boat,” Sansa commented. She glanced at Stannis who sat beside her, driving the car and looking oddly embarrassed. He didn’t say anything, but Shireen explained the name to Sansa happily enough.

“Dad and I fixed the boat up together. It didn’t need too much work, and Davos helped. We named it after Dad’s bird -- the one he found when he was little,” Shireen said, and Sansa looked over her shoulder to see that Shireen was smiling from ear to ear.

“Bird?” Sansa prompted. She would have been interested in knowing more regardless of how Stannis reacted to this conversation, but his increasingly obvious embarrassment was making her intensely curious.

“Dad found an injured goshawk when he was little. He took care of it and helped it learn to fly again. It could never fly properly though, only to the tops of the trees, really,” Shireen told her, sounding simultaneously proud and sad.

Sansa’s tender heart was touched by the story. She looked at Stannis, ready to give him a smile, but was surprised to see him scowling forcefully. She thought she could even hear him grinding his teeth. There had to be more to the story if he was reacting like that.

“What happened to Proudwing?” Sansa directed her question at Shireen, keeping her tone gentle.

“Uncle Robert was horrible about Proudwing. He told me himself! He said that he called it ‘Weakwing’ and teased Dad about it all the time. His being horrible about it made Dad give Proudwing up, eventually.” Shireen sounded almost angry, which was strange to hear. Sansa had never seen Shireen be anything but sweet.

“Robert was right. It was a childish endeavour,” Stannis said through gritted teeth.

Sansa couldn’t help herself. She placed a hand on Stannis’ knee and squeezed gently.

“I think it was a wonderful thing to do,” she said, genuine admiration in her voice. She had known Stannis to be the type of person to do the right thing always, and she had suspected he was a gentler person than he pretended to be - based mostly on how he had treated her since the start of their flirtation. This story confirmed a little of what she had suspected.

Stannis unclenched a little at her words.

“Yes, me too. The most wonderful thing! I wish I could have met Proudwing. There’s only one picture of dad with him. It’s on the boat, so you can see it,” Shireen chattered, her anger at Robert forgotten. Apparently, Shireen was not one to hold a grudge for long.

Sansa kept her hand on Stannis’ knee for the rest of the drive. By the time they arrived at the cabin, he looked downright pleased.

After lunch and a grocery run in the town near Robert’s house, the three travellers spent the afternoon unpacking and making themselves comfortable in their temporary home. Shireen was so quick about it that she was already in her bathing suit, wading out into the ocean before Stannis and Sansa had even started opening their luggage. (They had been putting the food away).

Stannis yelled at Shireen to use sunscreen, or else. Sansa hid a smile. She liked how Stannis acted around Shireen. Most people might not have seen it, but Stannis was more relaxed, more affectionate, and fiercely protective when Shireen was around. Arya would probably have raised an eyebrow at Sansa describing Stannis as affectionate. Compared with Catelyn’s overt mothering, and Eddard’s supportive, fatherly speeches, Stannis’ parenting could seem almost indifferent.

However, Sansa could tell that when Stannis asked Shireen questions - even if they were questions that sounded disinterested or routine - he listened intently, taking in her every word and considering her responses seriously. When he barked orders at Shireen as if she were one of his underlings at work, they were always orders that sought to protect her or see to her well-being. Most telling of all, his eyes lost that wary and hard glint when she was around. The tension in the muscles of his face relaxed, and the scowl faded away.

Sansa had not failed to notice that she herself sometimes merited the same changes in his countenance, although they were generally accompanied by a different sort of tension in his facial muscles, and a slightly heated gaze. She did not mind that in the least.

“I think I’ll start putting my things away. Which room is ours?” Sansa asked when the last of the groceries had been dealt with.

Stannis looked at her seriously for a moment before making his halting reply. “You are - ah - sure? You really want to share a room?”

Sansa smiled and nodded cheerfully, acting like this was the most normal thing in the world, and that her heart had not sped up just at the mention of sharing a room with him.

As it turned out, there was only one master bedroom, and a single spare room which Shireen had already claimed. No wonder her father and mother had never brought any of the Stark children with them when they borrowed this place. 

Stannis must have intended to sleep on the couch or something, knowing him, had she not wanted to share a room. Sansa shook her head and looked at the ceiling at the very idea.

The master bedroom was absolutely lovely in Sansa’s opinion. She could tell Cersei must have decorated it. For all the woman’s faults, she had good taste. It was all done in soft, muted colours. Every detail careful, finely wrought, and _rich._ The room was dominated by a bed that could have comfortably slept four. Sansa decided not to dwell on the bed. It would only lead her mind to what might happen after the lights went out with her lying there. Alone with Stannis. 

Sansa quickly examined the rest of the furniture, and immediately fell in love with the antique dressing table that stood in one corner of the room near the balcony windows. Sansa could tell that the placement was very deliberate. Anyone sitting at the table, in front of its attached mirror, would catch the very best light from outside. It would be perfect for applying cosmetics. She ran her fingertips over the silver brush and comb set that was displayed on the table, and removed the stopper from the old fashioned crystal perfume bottle. The scent that met her nose was unmistakably Cersei’s signature perfume. Sansa plugged it back up, feeling a strange and unwanted wave of sympathy for the woman. Cersei had lost much when Robert found out about her deceit.

“The door on the left is the closet. The other door leads to the washroom,” Stannis informed her. He had been watching her explore the dressing table, and something in his tone made Sansa want to reassure him that the room was to her liking.

“This room is so beautiful! Thank you for letting me share it with you.” She smiled and walked towards Stannis, intending to kiss his cheek. But he turned his head at the last second, and their lips met instead. It was a brief kiss, but it was unexpectedly heated and left Sansa curling her toes in pleasure.

“I’ll - uh - fetch our bags,” Stannis said, a little out of breath but somehow formal and awkward at the same time. Sansa was constantly surprised at how she seemed able to put him off balance. Margaery would say that it was because Sansa was so pretty, but she would have thought Stannis was used to being around pretty women. After all, his brother had been married to Cersei for many years. Cersei was probably the most beautiful woman that Sansa had ever seen. Though Selyse had not been nearly so gorgeous as Cersei, she had still had access to the sort of cosmetics, hair stylists and clothing boutiques to make herself quite fetching. Stannis was more experienced than Sansa was, and much more worldly. Why did he sometimes seem so unnerved by her?

Sansa put the question out of her mind for the time being and went to look at the closet. It was a walk-in, of course. There was enough space in there for Sansa’s entire wardrobe from home, so she was not worried about fitting the meagre selection she had brought inside.

Stannis found her inside the walk-in closet and handed her one of the bags he was carrying. She ended up unpacking both of their bags while Stannis found bed linens for them and Shireen, and made both beds with practised efficiency.

It felt delightfully domestic to Sansa, and she enjoyed it - though she was a little embarrassed to be putting Stannis’ underthings away for him. 

They were nice, she noticed. Soft, expensive material, but practical. Boxer briefs. (Hah, Margaery had guessed wrong.) She was desperately glad that their roles were not reversed. Just imagining the look on his face if he were to discover her little cache of night gowns and lacy lingerie had her suppressing a fit of nervous giggles.

When Sansa finished, tucking their suit cases into a corner of the closet to keep them out of the way, she listened for a moment to ascertain where in the house Stannis had gone. She thought she could hear the tap running in the kitchen, so that’s where she headed.

“All done. Do you want to join Shireen?” Sansa asked, leaning against the kitchen counter. Stannis was drinking thirstily from a glass of tap water, still standing right in front of the sink. He drained the glass and refilled it before he answered. Sansa couldn’t help staring at his neck when he had tipped his head back to get the last drops. Had she seriously once thought that Stannis wasn’t all that good looking?

“I should make sure the boat is seaworthy.” Stannis sounded solemn. He was looking out the large bay windows towards the dock and sipping slowly at his second glass of water.

“Oh, do you want any help with that?” Sansa wondered, feeling a bit at a loss. She knew she would be less than helpful on board a boat. She had sailed before, but always as a passenger on much larger vessels than Proudwing. There had been crews to take care of all the practical matters. Well, there had been the small sailboat in the Mediterranean, but she had been too young to learn anything useful then.

Stannis seemed to know this, or perhaps he read it in her expression. His mouth was turned up at the corners in his version of a smile, and he shook his head.

“That won’t be necessary. Why don’t you join Shireen?” Stannis suggested. He didn’t sound amused, but Sansa thought he was. A little. If she squinted, she could see an amused glint in his eyes.

She did end up joining Shireen in a way. She was not in the mood to slather her entire body with SPF 500+ sunscreen - _stupid flammable skin_ \- So she wore a big sunhat, a light shirt with long sleeves, and a flowing skirt that caught the ocean breeze, tangling itself around her legs when she walked. Underneath she wore her new sky-blue bikini, just in case. She made herself comfortable with a romance novel, situating herself in a shady spot where she could watch Shireen splash around in the waves when she looked up from her book.

It was a thoroughly relaxing way to spend an afternoon.

When Shireen ran out of energy she came and sat with Sansa for a little while. She asked her about the book Sansa was reading, and Sansa had to admit that she was reading something completely vapid. Shireen didn’t judge her for it. As it turned out, she had read the same book the year before. They discovered a mutual love for silly romance novels, and Sansa scored recommendations for several authors she had never heard of. She’d need to hit the library when she got back home. Sansa was able to recommend a few books to Shireen in return, but not quite as many. Shireen was the more voracious reader out of the two of them.

Their conversation came to a halt when Stannis approached. Neither girl wanted him to overhear anything about their love for books that had people with heaving bosoms on the covers.

“I think I’ll start dinner soon,” Stannis told them. It looked like he had somehow got engine grease all over his hands, and a little bit on his face as well. He was wiping at the oily substance with a dirty rag, but not having much success. Sansa had never seen him be anything but neat and clean, so she drank the sight in greedily.

“And get all that engine oil in our food? Ew, no. You should go take a shower. Sansa and I can start dinner. You know you can’t cook, anyway.” Shireen scrunched up her nose in disgust, but her tone was amused.

“I can manage the grill,” Stannis argued petulantly. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, which did interesting things to his forearms. Sansa wondered if she could convince him to wear clothing that exposed his forearms more often. There was something incredibly attractive about them. The strong musculature, the fine dark hairs, the way they were bigger, darker and rougher-looking than her own...

“Of course you can, but you still need to shower.” Shireen was determined. 

Sansa blushed as she recalled what had happened after Stannis came out of the shower the night of her graduation. Stannis and Sansa’s eyes met, and she swore he was thinking the exact same thing. It seemed to be distracting him, because although he had drawn breath and opened his mouth to argue further with his daughter, nothing came out. 

Shireen jumped to her feet.

“You can man the grill after you’re clean,” there was a note of finality in Shireen’s voice, and she was already walking towards the kitchen. “Sansa and I will get everything prepared while we wait for you.”

Sansa shrugged at Stannis as if to say: ‘I guess we had better do what she says.’ Then she got up to follow the younger girl into the house. Stannis placed a hand on her shoulder when she walked by him, halting her progress. Sansa turned to face him. He did not seem to know why he had stopped her, and was withdrawing his hand uncertainly.

“You have been enjoying yourself?” he asked uncomfortably, still trying to wipe some of the engine grease off his fingers with the rag. Sansa sensed that he was worried that she was upset at him for spending the whole afternoon fiddling around with his boat instead of entertaining her. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She did not expect him to spend every minute of the holiday doting on her. _Honestly._

“I’ve had a wonderfully relaxing afternoon, thank you.” She smiled, trying to answer his unasked question with her tone. Of course she wasn’t upset with him for going off on his own for a few hours. (She’d have him all to herself for the whole night, after all.)

Something in his stance relaxed. It was barely noticeable, but Sansa was in tune with him and could easily tell. She knew he had understood that she was not upset in the least. They walked back to the house in companionable silence. Just before they went inside, Sansa grabbed his wrist, mindful of his dirty hands, and squeezed it briefly. She had intended to let go after that and head for the kitchen, but Stannis kept hold of her.

“I won’t take long,” he promised. Then he kissed her. A lingering, but chaste, kiss. His beard was at the stage where it was just starting to grow back, and it felt like sandpaper. He smelled more like engine oil than his cologne. But his lips were smooth and soft, and Sansa found that she suddenly loved sandpaper and engine oil.

When they parted, she kept her eyes closed for a few beats, just enjoying the tingling sensation that kissing brought. When she opened her eyes, Stannis was retreating, and he had disappeared into their room before she could say anything. So she simply stood in the little entrance hall, dazed and smiling. A warm glow settled over her, and she felt pleasantly fuzzy in the head. She allowed herself a few moments to enjoy the feeling, but then she walked to the kitchen, shaking her head to clear it.

Dinner preparations with Shireen were a jolly affair. Their exuberant mood was not diminished one jot when Stannis joined them, hair still dripping wet. Shireen and Sansa had smothered the salmon - fresh from the town’s fishmonger - in a marinade, wrapped potatoes in aluminum foil, and prepared a fresh salad. The marinade was a special recipe that Shireen told Sansa must not be shared with anyone outside the household. It had been in the Baratheon family for years, a staple in the old, handwritten recipe book that Stannis had inherited. 

Stannis manned the grill competently, if not expertly, and within the hour they were feasting on the delicious meal. Sansa agreed that the marinade had brought out the fresh flavour of the salmon perfectly, balancing out the fatty taste that Sansa sometimes found overpowering when she had eaten salmon in the past.

Once everyone had finished at least two helpings, they cleared the table and cleaned up in the kitchen. Sansa was surprised that Stannis helped as much as he did. Her own father only ever helped clear up after dinner if her mother ordered him to, and she knew Robert would never help in the kitchen, whether he was ordered to or not.

“What’s the plan for tomorrow?” Sansa asked when the last plate had been returned to its proper place in a kitchen cupboard.

“Sailing!” Shireen immediately answered, looking at her father brightly for confirmation.

“Proudwing is in perfectly good order, we can sail if you wish.” Stannis sounded almost indulgent. He was looking at Shireen with quiet amusement, leaning back against the kitchen counter with a tea towel slung across one shoulder.

“Well, how long do you usually stay on the water? Shall we need to pack a lunch?” Sansa wondered, her mother’s deeply instilled practicality coming to the surface.

“Oh, let’s pack a lunch and sail to the little island!” Shireen suggested happily. Her face was aglow with the idea of an island picnic, and Sansa couldn’t blame her. The plan sounded absolutely lovely.

“That island is a two hour trip down the coast.” Stannis sounded reluctant, and he had crossed his arms in front of his chest, but Sansa could see that his eyes were enlivened at the idea. She suspected he would be fairly easy to convince.

“What’s the island like? Does it have a name?” Sansa was curious.

“It’s the most precious tiny little thing with a very pretty beach, and coconut palm trees and a - “ Shireen started to extol the virtues of the island, but was interrupted by her father.

“The island is a deserted spit of land, but pretty enough. I don’t know that it has a name.” Stannis uncrossed his arms and went to put the tea towel away.

“I’d love to see it,” Sansa said softly, giving Stannis an imploring look. Shireen picked up on it and joined it, turning her most expressive Bambi eyes on to full blast.

Stannis sighed, completely defeated by their hopeful gazes. “I’ll have to pick up some extra fuel for the boat first,” he grumbled, but it was only token grumbling. He looked quite pleased when Sansa and Shireen beamed at him and started planning what type of lunch to pack in excited voices.

When every detail of their picnic lunch had been planned - Stannis had retreated behind a book after five minutes of: “but we have to take some extra cheese!” and “no no no, we can’t take milk unless we have a cooler on the boat” - Shireen challenged Sansa to a game of chess. Sansa was terrible at chess, and admitted to it readily, so Shireen became determined to help her improve. They took turns being white, and Shireen tried to explain how to think strategically, and plan ahead. Sansa had never really progressed beyond the point of learning how each piece was supposed to move, so she was struggling to keep up. However, she tried very hard to mind Shireen’s advice, aware of Stannis’ eyes on her, watching her progress - though he pretended to be absorbed in his book.

When Shireen had yawned one too many times Stannis shut his book loudly.

“Bed,” he ordered, and Shireen did not dare object when she saw how determined he looked. She gave Sansa a sheepish look and got to her feet. “Good night then. We can finish the game tomorrow.”

Sansa smiled and nodded, murmuring, “good night, Shireen,” in return.

Shireen walked over to her father and gave him a peck on the cheek. His eyes softened, but his voice was hard as ever when he reminded her to brush her teeth.

Sansa stood up and walked around the room a little aimlessly, rolling her shoulders and swinging her arms around. She had been hunched over the chess game for the past two hours, and her muscles felt a little stiff. Neither Sansa or Stannis spoke until they heard that Shireen had finished in the bathroom and shut her bedroom door. _They were practically alone now._ Sansa felt a curious thrill pass through her at the thought.

“What are you reading?” Sansa asked, tentatively starting a conversation.

“The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich.” Stannis closed the book and showed her the cover. Sansa resisted the urge to roll her eyes. What was it with men and the Second World War?

“Cheerful bedtime reading, then,” she smiled, inviting him to share the joke.

Stannis huffed out an amused breath. “You would have me read something with half-naked people on the cover?” He raised an eyebrow and nodded at her discarded romance novel.

Sansa blushed. She had hoped he wouldn’t notice her frivolous reading material, but Stannis noticed everything. She usually liked that about him. Now that she was caught, she supposed she should simply own her choice. Getting defensive would be a waste of time, guilty pleasure or not.

“You might like it,” she said, still smiling and willing her blush to go away.

Stannis raised both eyebrows in an expression of sardonic disbelief, not deigning to respond with words. This seemed like a challenge to Sansa, and it brought out her stubborn side.

“Have you ever read a romance novel?” she demanded, crossing her arms. Her tone was defiant, but she could not quite hide her smile. She enjoyed their banter, and was happy to have this time with him to talk about books and silly things.

“Of course not,” Stannis scoffed. His Nazi history book was now lying abandoned on the coffee table, his full attention on her.

“Well, how do you know you wouldn’t like it?” Sansa asked triumphantly. She enjoyed watching his face as he thought of his response. At first a little miffed, then thoughtful, then decisive.

“Romance novels are never realistic. I enjoy reading realistic things,” Stannis argued. He was still sitting, but his posture was less relaxed than before. He was sitting at the edge of his chair, leaning towards her. She was still walking around the room, but had stopped swinging her arms about.

“They may not always portray realistic situations, but the emotions the characters in romantic stories feel are often very realistic.” Sansa knew she might be stretching the truth a little. Romance novels often dealt with very heightened and exaggerated emotions. But she could definitely identify with those feelings. Especially for the past few weeks.

“Romantic stories only increase expectations of what relationships should be like, and make real experiences seem dull in comparison. They are… they are not helpful.” Stannis looked genuinely agitated and his scowl was back in full force.

Sansa decided to invade his personal space a little. He was sitting in a big arm chair, and although he had a fat percentage that approached zero, there wasn’t really room for a second person in the chair. The only way for her to join him was to sit in his lap, so that was exactly what she did. She was pleased when he immediately understood what she wanted and helped her get comfortable.

She ended up with her arms around his neck, sitting sideways across his lap, with his arms encircling her with a steadying grip. He was warm and smelled clean and fresh from having showered earlier. She knew she probably smelled strongly of the small amount of sunscreen she had put on that afternoon, but he did not seem to mind. She nuzzled his neck, searching for the scent of his cologne.

“I mostly read them for the sex scenes, anyway,” she whispered and kissed the spot near his jaw that she thought was particularly sensitive. Her efforts were instantly rewarded when he shuddered in response to her lips.

“Ah - and I suppose they’re realistic, too?” Stannis rasped, his grip on her body tightening.

“I wouldn’t know.” Sansa couldn’t help the micro-giggle that bubbled up at that, but silenced herself when she noticed the grimace that appeared on Stannis’ face. She guessed that reminders of her youth and inexperience weren’t exactly a turn-on for him. Or maybe they were, and he didn’t want them to be? She decided that she needed to distract him from thoughts that made him grimace, whatever the reason behind them.

“So far, everything we’ve done has been _far_ better than in the books,” she confessed into his ear, her voice breathy. Then she started experimenting with kisses and nips at his earlobe.

His quick intake of breath was the only warning she got before he was suddenly pressing his lips against hers, burying one hand in her hair and crushing her against his chest with the other. His tongue was demanding entrance, and Sansa parted her lips for him without even considering resistance. 

She loved it when he kissed her aggressively like this. In her heart she knew that she had been trying to goad him into it for the last few minutes, and she felt dizzy with her little victory. Thoughts of victory were quickly chased from her mind, however, when his insistent tongue and his firm grasp on her body caused that increasingly familiar liquid heat to pool between her thighs. She mewled needfully into their kiss and fervently wished she was straddling him instead of sitting demurely across his strong thighs.

Just when she was seriously considering a move to change her position, Stannis broke their kiss. They were both breathing fast, and when she looked into his eyes she saw that they had darkened with lust. 

Gods, she loved it when he looked at her like that.

Feeling playful, Sansa feigned a yawn. “I think I’m going to bed. I’m so _dreadfully_ tired.” She punctuated her words with an exaggerated stretch. “Join me?” she added with a smile when he just looked at her with a puzzled, lust-hazed expression. Comprehension dawned, and something akin to panic stirred behind his eyes. 

She should probably give him a few minutes to calm down and remember that he had no reason to panic.

“I’m just going to go brush my teeth, okay? Why don’t you finish your chapter and join me in a few minutes?” She tried to sound calming, and kissed him sweetly on the lips before getting up and walking towards their bedroom. She didn’t look back at him, but in case he was looking, she let her hips sway a little more than usually.

Her heart hammered as if she was running a race the entire time she brushed her teeth and changed out of her loose clothes. She had brought some of her tiniest, most lacy and least functional nighties with her, and she felt positively naughty about putting one on now. She hoped it would tempt Stannis to touch her a little more. She’d already touched his most intimate places, but he had yet to even touch her breasts through her clothes. She was incredibly curious about what his touch would be like, and was determined to encourage him by any means at her disposal.

She had just turned off the lights - all except for the lamp on her nightstand - and crawled under the covers, when Stannis entered the room. He looked a little hesitant, peering at her in the dim light, but he hadn’t brought his book. She took that as a positive sign. He obviously realised that she didn’t wish him to come to bed early so that he could _read._

“I’m just going to -” Stannis jerked his head at the door to the en suite, and trailed off. Then he disappeared through the door and shut it behind him. Soon Sansa could hear the faint sounds of Stannis going through the same sort of night time routine that she had just finished. 

She passed the time wondering what he would wear to bed. She hoped he would go shirtless. She really liked touching his bare chest. She also really wanted to spend a decent amount of time tracing the outline of his abs with her fingertips. Maybe even with her tongue? The thought sent hot blood rushing to her face and a rush of heat to her centre. She didn’t know if she’d dare. Sansa closed her eyes and pressed her thighs together tightly. 

When she heard the creak of the door to the en suite, her eyes fluttered open. Stannis was already slipping under the covers when she managed to focus, but she noticed that he was not wearing anything except some loose pyjama bottoms. Her breath hitched slightly at the sight, and her throat felt dry. She licked her lips and waited for Stannis to finish getting comfortable. She was lying on her side, facing him and propping herself up with one elbow. Stannis, once he settled, was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling as if the answers to the most elusive mysteries of life were written on it.

She inched closer and used the fingertips of her free hand to trace random patterns around the exposed skin underneath his collarbones. It was fascinating to observe the rise and fall of his chest as he took one deep breath after another. Sansa, driven by some mixture of curiosity and bravery, pushed the covers down, exposing both herself - breasts all but spilling over the scanty material of her nightgown - and his chest. Her fingertips travelled lower, tracing the musculature that was rock-hard under his skin, enjoying the texture the sparse dark hairs afforded her, and listening for any hints of what he thought of all this.

So far, he was simply taking deep breaths. They were a little louder than usual, but no gasps or groans as of yet. She decided to move closer, mostly so that she could place a thigh across one of his, and receive a little relief by pressing herself against him. She wondered if he could feel how she was burning up at her centre.

Sansa continued to push the covers down and trail her fingertips lower and lower, circling his navel, playing with the dark hairs that grew thick just below it, and letting her nails rake across the skin gently. Stannis still had not touched her in return, but she could see that his breathing was considerably faster now, and the covers did nothing to hide the impressive tent just below her hand.

“Stannis, do you think my nightgown is nice?” Sansa finally whispered, hoping to prompt him into action. She observed as he dragged his eyes from the ceiling to her body. Since she was pressed so closely to him there was not much for him to see except for the lace around her breasts and her cleavage. Something like a moan escaped him, and he quickly looked at her face.

“It’s very nice.” His voice was gravelly and a few octaves lower than normal. Sansa involuntarily pressed herself more firmly against his thigh in response to the sound.

“It’s silk, you know. Except for the lace.” Sansa was aiming to sound conversational, but her voice was low and breathy, so she ended up sounding rather sensual instead.

“Ah -yes?” Stannis choked out, eyes darting from her chest and to her eyes a few times.

Sansa took a deep breath. “It’s very soft,” she hinted, willing him to understand that she wanted him to touch her. Then she remembered that this was Stannis, and that he liked bluntness. She grabbed his hand and brought it to her ribcage, just underneath the swell of her breast. “See?”

His hand grasped at her almost painfully for a moment, but his grip loosened before she had to ask him to gentle his hold. His thumb brushed the underside of her breast experimentally - tentatively. She made sure to make an encouraging noise. She desperately wanted him to continue.

“May I-?” Stannis asked hoarsely. Sansa almost laughed at his politeness at a moment like this, but checked herself.

“ _Please,_ ” she implored instead - a needy little whimper.

His large hand cupped her breast then, a little more roughly than she had expected. She exhaled a surprised - “Oh!”, and he promptly softened his touch. He seemed afraid to move his hand after that and kept still. Sansa had closed her eyes to focus her attention on the sensations he was eliciting, but she opened them now to ask a silent question. _Why aren’t you moving?_

The look on his face gave Sansa pause. His brow was furrowed and his jaw clenched, the harsh angles of his face standing out in sharp relief. Simultaneously it seemed that his eyes revealed a storm of emotion. She thought she could read guilt, desire, worry, pleasure and perhaps something else entirely - brewing underneath it all, hidden and fragile.

She would give anything to be able to see into his mind.

***

Stannis was very thankful that Sansa was not able to see into his mind. Seeing her in bed, wearing what she was wearing and looking at him as if she wanted to lick him like an ice cream cone... It was shorting his brain out. Her gentle exploration of his chest and abdomen did nothing to restart his rational circuits, and feeling her practically wrap herself around him was making the possibility of ever thinking an innocent thought again a laughable prospect.

Although his higher brain functions had been soundly defeated, the parts governing his most primitive urges and his imagination were in perfect working order. They seemed to have ganged up on the more chivalrous parts, sending out crystal clear images as she touched him. The images were of himself rolling on top of Sansa, of her enthusiastically parting her legs for him - no, lifting her legs and hooking them over his shoulders - and then he could practically hear her praying for him to go deeper, harder, _faster._ His cock jumped at the vivid fantasy, painfully hard and aching for relief.

His deep, even breaths became decidedly less deep and even.

Years of disciplined living served Stannis well, and he restrained himself. Even though her hand was _so close_ and he desperately wanted to guide her just a little lower, abandon all dignity and beg her to stroke him.

“Stannis, do you think my nightgown is nice?” Sansa sounded flirtatious and genuinely curious, and Stannis cast around for the scraps of sense that were dancing just out of his reach. He would be required to make human words in response to her question.

It took him less time than he had dared to hope. He even sounded somewhat normal when he told her the tempting material that barely hid her from view was nice. She would make a canvas bag look nice if she wore it, he expected.

Stannis enjoyed her reaction to his words. He wished he could think of more things to say so that she would keep pressing herself against him so hotly. When she gave him another opening, however, saying something about silk and lace in that breathy voice of hers, he got distracted by her breasts and couldn’t think of any words other than the ever intelligent, “yes”.

Sansa seemed to be determined to undo years of sexual repression and rigid self control. That was the only reason Stannis could think of for her to move his hand so that he was _almost touching her barely covered breast._

In order to prevent himself from moving up to do just that, he convulsively tightened his grip on her ribs. He relished the sensation of the buttery silk of her nightgown, but when he realised that he could feel the outline of her ribs a little too well, he forced himself to relax his hand. He didn’t want to hurt her.

Stannis looked at Sansa and tried to understand what she wanted him to do. Did she perhaps _want_ him to touch her breast?

He let his thumb brush the soft, silk-covered swell of the one he could reach. She let out a little moan of pleasure that went straight to his cock. She definitely - probably - wanted him to touch her breast. He should ask and make sure. The last thing he wanted to do was misinterpret her signals.

He sought her permission, amazed at his ability to make words, and had to bite his tongue to restrain himself from acting out his fantasy from before when she let out the most decadent, sensual, “ _please,_ ” he had ever had the pleasure of hearing.

It was getting increasingly difficult to control his limbs. He both had to restrain them from trapping Sansa underneath him like his reptile brain wanted, and then use them to do things he needed them to. As a result, the hand that went for her breast felt clumsy and ungainly, a little as if it had gone numb. He must have been too rough without meaning to because Sansa let out a surprised discomfited sound at the contact. He concentrated even harder on his motor skills and adjusted to a lighter touch. Then he went still as he catalogued the feel of her in his palm. 

The lush curve filled his hand flawlessly. The mix of different textures he could feel was interesting. Silk, lace and bare skin. He wished he could push the silk and the lace out of the way. Her bare skin was infinitely softer, and it was warm and _fascinating._ Gods he wanted to tear the infernal nightgown off and explore every inch of her chest with his hands and his mouth. But he knew that would be deplorably rude, and would probably scare her. He hoped his clumsy touches hadn’t scared her already. It defied reason that she wanted him pawing at her, but she had not indicated that she wanted him to stop.

He **would** stop if she asked. There was no doubt in his mind about that. He was starting to care deeply about Sansa, and the idea of gaining pleasure at the cost of hers was abhorrent to him.

Stannis gradually became aware that Sansa was looking at him with a puzzled expression, and he realised he’d been stock still for a long time.

He slowly started to caress and knead her breast, watching her face closely for her reaction. Her eyes fluttered closed and she let out a contented sigh. He liked the feeling of her chest going up and down with the exaggerated breath. Careful to listen for any sign of discomfort, he continued to explore. After a little while, she changed her position to lie flat on her back, giving him access to her other breast. He rolled to his side, propping himself up on one elbow as she had done. His free hand immediately sought out her neglected breast, giving it all the attention it deserved.

Sansa was soon moaning loudly - he hoped Shireen was asleep already - as he alternated between circling her pebbled nipples with his fingertips through the paper-thin silk of her nightgown, and squeezing lightly with his palm.

The feel of her under his hand, and her erotic reactions to his touch were causing his blood to thunder through his veins and nearly boil over. He could almost hear it rushing around his body and he could definitely feel the intense pressure it was causing between his legs. He had been resisting the temptation to rub his erection against Sansa’s thigh, but he could barely remember why anymore.

After Sansa moaned particularly loudly, he noticed that she was pressing her thighs together very tightly. _Where had their covers gone?_ He remembered how she had been pressing her hot centre against his thigh earlier, and wondered if she would like him to touch her more intimately and bring her some real satisfaction. Or perhaps she would rather grind against his cock again? A pleasurable shudder ran through him. He wouldn’t mind that at all, but he was very curious about what touching her would feel like. If she would allow him to slip a finger inside he would be able to feel how tight she was, how warm and how wet…

His hips thrust forward involuntarily at the idea, grinding his erection into her thigh and providing him with an infinitesimal amount of relief. He allowed himself a few moments to enjoy the sensation before moving back so that he could think.

Stannis took a deep breath, hoping to get some oxygen to the language centre of his brain. He exhaled loudly and clenched and unclenched his jaw a few times before speaking.

“Before we go any further - where do you draw the line?” His voice was rougher than ever, but at least he had got the words out.

Stannis remembered what Sansa had said about being open to doing everything they had done so far, but he wasn’t sure if that meant he was at liberty to touch her as she had touched him the night she had visited his apartment, or if he should keep his attentions above her waist.

“Oh, I - um - I suppose… What do you want to do?” Sansa stammered and blushed, turning a very fetching shade of pink. 

Stannis felt his cock jump and twitch as his imagination flooded his brain with vivid images of all the things he wanted to do with her. He knew she wasn’t teasing him purposefully, so he did his best to ignore his imagination and tried to think of a reasonable answer.

“I mean, I could do what I did before for you. If you - if you liked that?” Sansa offered before he finished thinking. She looked unsure of herself, eyes wide and lower lip caught between her teeth.

 _Just say yes,_ a selfish part of Stannis thought. He knew the head of his cock was dripping already, could feel how it ached for her touch. He nobly ignored these thoughts and rescued Sansa’s lower lip from her teeth with a brief kiss.

“I liked it,” he reassured her solemnly, “I wondered if you wanted me to - ah - return the favour?” Stannis held his breath and scrunched his face up, bracing himself for rejection. He shouldn’t have brought it up. It was too soon, too intimate…

He risked a glance at her to gauge her reaction. She looked conflicted and deep in thought. When their eyes met, she seemed to be searching his face for something. Stannis wondered if he should speak or keep silent. The choice was taken out of his hands when Sansa finally answered him.

“I think I would like to try it.” Her face was still flushed, and her eyes revealed desire tempered with hesitation. “Please - please be gentle.” She bit her lip again, as if to stop herself from saying more.

Shocked and completely unable to form more words, Stannis simply kissed her in response. Sansa soon melted into the kiss, her body - which had been tenser than a bow string - relaxing against him. He let his hand roam from her face, down her neck, between her breasts and down to her abdomen. There he kept it for a while, drawing lazy circles as they kissed hungrily, tongues searching and tasting.

After a while, Stannis broke the kiss very gently. She made a small noise of protest, but she accepted the separation as he did not move away. Stannis observed her closely. Her breathing was very deep and slow, and he could see that her chest and her cheeks were flushed pink. Her eyes were closed and her lips slightly parted. She was unmistakably aroused.

Stannis boldly placed his hand on her bare thigh, just under the hem of her little nightgown. One of his fingers brushed the lace trim, and he kept still, giving Sansa time to object if she had changed her mind. Her breath had hitched when his hand moved, but she quickly relaxed again.

Slowly, carefully, and gently he inched his fingers up her thigh, slipping them underneath her nightgown. His heart was hammering away, and he was having to use all of his considerable self control to ignore the selfish demands of his own arousal. His brow was furrowed in concentration as he focused intently on the hand that was currently nearing the apex of her slightly parted thighs.

Stannis was tempted to lift the silk that hid his hand from view, but he remembered how Sansa had never tried to steal a peek at _him_ when she had touched him, and decided to leave things as they were. He would watch her face instead and use her reactions to guide his hand.

When his fingers brushed the material that covered her sex, Sansa exhaled loudly and tensed for a second. Then she inhaled a shuddering breath and relaxed again. Stannis, unaccustomed to touching anything as lightly as he was touching her now, started to awkwardly feel for her dips and folds, mapping her with his fingertips. He moved excruciatingly slowly, aware of every twitch on Sansa’s face. So far she seemed to be enjoying herself, even as she looked a little embarrassed. She kept her eyes firmly shut. Stannis thought that was probably for the best. If she met his eyes with her innocently lustful gaze at this moment, he wasn’t sure how he would react.

When he felt that Sansa had become comfortable with his touch, he started to make an effort to seek out the hidden bundle of nerves that would bring her the most pleasure. He was in no hurry and was careful not to over-stimulate any one spot. Instead he drew tight circles around the place that made her bite her lip and whimper helplessly. His touch was firmer now, without being rough. He knew that most women required a much softer touch than he would use on himself, but he also knew that if he touched too lightly, it would only be a teasing tickle - not enough to give her real pleasure. Still, she had asked him to be gentle... 

He watched her carefully for any sign of discomfort. It was getting harder to read her expression, as pain and pleasure often looked disconcertingly similar. The sounds she was making indicated that he was on the right track, however, so he pressed on.

Stannis was so surprised when she suddenly spoke that he almost pulled his hand back as if burnt.

“Could you - The material - It chafes a little…” Sansa’s voice was so breathless, so pleading, so ridiculously attractive, that Stannis didn’t understand her at first. He had to go over her words a few times in his mind before he realised that she wanted him to slip his fingers underneath the material of her underwear and touch her directly. He swallowed hard and clenched his jaw so rigidly that he felt as if a muscle in his jaw had cramped.

He nodded curtly at her, as speech was beyond him, and gently pushed her underwear to the side and out of the way. If she had felt hot under his fingers before, she now felt _scorching._ She also felt astoundingly soft and hairless. He knew some women had the hair removed, and guessed Sansa must have undergone such a procedure. Had she done that for him? Flattering notion, but perhaps it was just because bikinis these days were impossibly small.

Most gratifyingly, she was also slick with moisture and he lost a few moments thinking about how it would feel to slide his cock against her hot, wet folds. His hips jerked forward, pressing his erection against her thigh again. He couldn’t muster the control necessary to move back, and kept his body flush against hers, desperate for the contact.

His fingers had returned to their previous task, firmly circling and rubbing at her most sensitive places, drawing forth increasingly urgent moans from her lips. He kissed her in an attempt to quiet her, mindful of his daughter just a corridor away, but she continued to moan into the kiss, growing louder if anything.

Feeling suddenly a little reckless and desperately curious, Stannis decided to dip a finger into her heat -- the source of the moisture that was coating his fingers. He was glad he always kept his fingernails as short as possible as it meant that there was no risk of scratching her. He redoubled his efforts to read the reactions on her face as he slowly pushed a digit inside of her, but when he felt the soft walls clenching around his finger like a vice - burning hot and sopping wet - his efforts to watch her came to naught. He squeezed his eyes shut and bared his teeth, fighting the powerful urge to climb on top of her and push his raging, neglected erection inside so that he could _really enjoy_ her tight grip. His hips thrust forward reflexively, grinding his cock even harder against her thigh.

He took a succession a quick harsh breaths and forced his eyes open. He knew he would not be able to entertain these ideas while he could see her trusting, beautiful face. He knew he had made the right decision when he saw that she had opened her eyes, and was gazing at him, wide-eyed and amazed.

“It’s so good!” she gasped, looking surprised and delighted. He thought it was an odd reaction. Surely she had experimented with herself? He had to close his eyes again for a moment to recover from the barrage of mental images of Sansa playing with herself. He was embarrassingly close to release, just from touching her, and rubbing against her thigh…

Willing himself to concentrate on Sansa’s pleasure instead of his sordid thoughts, he gently moved his finger as deep as he could go without meeting any resistance. He could not believe how tightly her inner muscles clamped down on him. He wasn’t actually sure if he should add another finger. What if it caused her discomfort? He used his thumb to continue stimulating the area he had been focusing on previously, hoping that he wasn’t being too rough. It was getting harder to maintain fine motor control, and his thumb felt clumsy and useless. He kept going because Sansa was becoming more and more vocal, and did not seem at all receptive to the idea of him stopping. He made no effort to hide the smug look that he knew must be on his face. Sansa had her eyes closed, so there was no one to see.

When he started to move his finger backwards and forwards in a steady rhythm, he thought he might have to do something to get her to quiet down. He kissed her, muffling her moans for a little while, but then he had to give her room to breathe. She seemed to have taken the hint, and instead of moaning loudly, she was now breathing a steady stream of mewling 'ah' sounds, no louder than sighs. They were just as arousing, but at least they probably wouldn’t carry outside the room.

Stannis couldn’t take his eyes off Sansa’s face as he touched her. He had never seen her look more beautiful. She was flushed pink and a light sheen of sweat covered her skin. Her eyes were shut and her brow was a little furrowed, as if she were concentrating with all her might on a difficult problem. Her lips were parted to let those wonderful sounds escape, and her lower lip looked a little swollen from their kisses and her worrying at it. All in all, it was as if she was glowing with pleasure.

Without realising it, he had sped up. This caused Sansa to start pleading with him to keep going, although her capacity for sensible language seemed impaired. 

It was good to know he wasn’t the only one.

“Please-please-please, Gods - _yes_ , please, don’t stop - Ah! _Please..._ ” His cock twitched at every word, but Stannis ruthlessly ignored it.

It was only a short while before he thought she might be close to her peak, and he remembered something that he wanted to try before she made it there. He shifted his hand around a little - causing her to make a rather interesting, breathy noise of protest - and moved so that he could curl the finger that was inside of her in a sort of ‘come-hither’ motion. Her noise of protest turned into a gasp of pleasure. He repeated the motion. Sansa bucked against his hand and threw her head back almost violently. Stannis watched her greedily, vicariously enjoying her pleasure, as he kept curling his finger. He only needed to do it a few more times before she all but convulsed against him, lips parted in a silent scream, a look of pure ecstasy on her features.

Now that she had reached her peak, Stannis knew that he should be even more gentle than before, as she would be just as hyper-sensitive as he was after finishing. He withdrew his finger and used all of his fingertips together to rub her gently, going in slow circles and not staying in any one place for too long. He watched her face relax as she came down from her high, and kept tracing his circles until she opened her eyes half way, and gazed at him from underneath her lowered lashes. Then he retracted his hand, careful to replace her underwear the way he had found it.

The arm that had been supporting his weight had gone completely numb, so he rolled onto his back to allow sensation to return to the limb. He deeply regretted having to do this, as this meant he could no longer enjoy pressing his erection into Sansa’s thigh. Instead it was uselessly tenting the pyjama bottoms he wished he was no longer wearing.

He turned his head to continue looking at Sansa. She had followed his example and turned her head towards him. She was still breathing heavily and her eyes were black with lust, he noticed with no small amount of pride.

“That was amazing,” she whispered, almost purring with contentment. “It’s never been that good when I’ve tried,” she added with a sigh.

The mental images of her ‘trying’ assaulted Stannis again, and he made fists of his hands, digging his short fingernails into his palms to prevent himself from grabbing his cock and seeking his own release. He wanted to answer her, tell her that these things were usually better with a partner, or ask her to elaborate, but his jaw was locked shut and his tongue felt thick, heavy and dry.

“Stannis, are you all right?” she asked after a while, draping herself over his side and resting her head on his chest. It felt _wonderful._ He should really try to say something.

“Gmnhhgh,” was all he managed. Disgraceful.

Her hand had started to pet his chest again and he found himself hoping that she would go lower. Much lower. He would not be able to will his erection away, he was too far gone for that.

“I know, I feel like that too,” Sansa was answering him as if he had said something that made sense. He could hear the smile in her voice. How strange.

He held his breath when her hand wandered to the lowest part of his abdomen, just where the cotton of his pyjama bottoms started to cover him. She let her fingernails rake across the skin there and it felt like the best kind of torture.

“But you’ve given me a reason to feel like that,” she continued and lifted her head so that she could look into his eyes. He knew he must be giving her a look worthy of a tortured prisoner, begging for it all to end. Try as he might, he couldn’t arrange his face into a more dignified expression.

Sansa glanced down discreetly, before looking at his face again. “I think you need my help with something,” she said seriously. Stannis just closed his eyes. He felt completely defeated.

It didn’t take Sansa long to bring him to his own climax. Her warm hand snaked underneath his waistband and encircled his very inflamed, very rigid cock. She had obviously remembered what he liked from last time, since she found the same rhythm nearly at once. Stannis could barely enjoy the sensation because he was simply flooded with relief at finally being touched. He abandoned his pride and thrust up to meet her at every stroke, exhaling loudly through his nose and keeping his eyes squeezed shut. When he came, it was with broken moan that he couldn’t hold back for the life of him.

“Better?” Sansa asked lightly and started kissing his neck in a very distracting way.

He groaned and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. It was safe to do so now that the fog of his arousal was clearing. Sansa made a delighted sound against his neck, something between a sharp inhalation and a laugh. She met his hold by pushing her body against him in return, almost as if she wanted to merge her skin with his. It was very pleasant for a while, but then it started to become stifling. They broke apart - just far enough to give each other some breathing room - and Sansa smiled at him.

Stannis cleared his throat, suddenly feeling awkward. “I should clean up,” he stated, berating himself for voicing such an inane thought.

“Mmm,” Sansa agreed, still smiling.

Not really wanting to move from the bed, but unable to stay put after saying that he should clean up, Stannis reluctantly got to his feet.

“Wait, let me wash my hands first. I’ll just be a second!” Sansa jumped up and ran into the en suite before he had managed to take one step. He was still blinking in bewilderment when she returned, pressing a quick kiss against his lips as she passed him by, and then jumping back into bed.

He shook his head and headed for a date with a wash cloth and some fresh pyjama bottoms. If they were going to spend every night like this, he would soon run out of clean ones. He’d have to learn how to use the washing machine. Usually when he and Shireen stayed in the beach house, they didn’t stay for that long, so he would just bring enough clothes to last the trip and then dump all the dirty clothes in the laundry service at his apartment building when he returned. Shireen sometimes mocked him for having his laundry sent out, but he had better things to do with his time than wash clothes.

After he got back into bed, he glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand. It was just after midnight. He sighed at the sight, knowing how early he needed to get up.

Sansa wormed her way under his arm, resting her head on his chest again. She threw a leg over him and pressed herself close. It really was wonderful to feel her like this. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had wrapped herself around him in such a way. He thought Selyse must have, at some point. It was a very faint memory.

“Is it weird for you to do… what you did?” Sansa asked his chest, her voice muffled.

Stannis raised his eyebrows, blinking rapidly. Weird? Why on earth would it be weird?

“I mean, did you like doing it? For me?” Sansa clarified, still speaking into his chest. He suspected she wished to hide her face - she was likely embarrassed by her questions, then.

“Touching any part of you is a privilege, Sansa,” he answered a little stiffly, unsure if that was the right thing to say.

He could feel the warmth radiating off her face as she pressed it against him.

“It’s just… couldyoudoitagainsometime?” Sansa’s words were almost incomprehensible as she blurted them out all at once. But Stannis managed to understand that she wished for a repeat performance from him at some point. His lips curled into a satisfied smirk. His ego felt as if it had been fed more in the past few weeks than in the rest of his life combined - despite the occasional blows to his dignity. His smirk was replaced with a grimace as he recalled how he had thrust into her hand moments ago, disregarding his pride completely, but that didn’t matter now. She had liked his touch and wanted more. He’d be happy to oblige her, of course. Anything for her.

“Certainly,” he answered hoarsely, bringing a hand up to stroke her hair. He really liked her hair. It was thick and soft, and smelled like the fresh sea air and the sun. He thought he could happily drown in the comfort of Sansa, and felt a sudden empathy for sailors who had told stories of sirens that would tempt them to their doom. He’d probably steer Proudwing straight into a rock if it meant being close to Sansa.

She made a wordless, contented sound in response to his hand in her hair, and he was sure he could feel her smiling against his skin. For the first time in a long time Stannis felt completely at peace, languid even, with not a trace of bitterness occupying his mind. He would not change places with anyone, not even for the chance to be CEO of Baratheon Industries. Not even for a chance to be king of the world.

Without really meaning to, they both drifted off to sleep soon after.


	13. A deserted island

Sansa was still half asleep by the time they set sail, and it took a good half hour for the cool sea breeze to do its work and wake her up properly.

It was a good thing that Stannis and Shireen obviously had their sailing routine all figured out, and that there was not really a role for Sansa to play. She was just along for the ride. Sansa genuinely did not mind this, and enjoyed watching the pair of them interact. Stannis looked - dare she think it? - happy. She blushed when she remembered a comment that Margaery had made about how strange it would be to see Stannis happy all the time when she started doing _things_ with him. Margaery had probably phrased it less delicately.

She hoped Stannis always looked this happy when he sailed Proudwing with his daughter. It was flattering to think part of his happiness was due to what they’d been up to in bed last night, but she preferred to think that Stannis would have been equally happy if Sansa hadn’t been aboard the vessel, and even if she hadn’t made it to the beach house at all. She liked the idea that he had this place, away from work and tedious responsibilities, to just _be_ and enjoy himself. _Everyone should have that_ , she thought.

She had enjoyed herself last night. A dreamy smile played at her lips, and she stared into the middle distance, recalling how amazing it had felt. It had been hard at first, to make the decision to allow him to touch her as she had touched him before. Joffrey’s fingers had brought her nothing but pain and humiliation, and her own had never really excited her. She had always used other means to chase her pleasure, but she had decided to take a chance. Everything she had done with Stannis had felt good, so she had wondered if it would feel different when it was _him_.

She was very glad that she had decided to take that chance. Worst case scenario, it wouldn’t have felt good and then she could have asked him to stop -- or distracted him by touching him instead. She recalled with a thrill how he had started to grind against her thigh, unable to restrain his need. He would have been easy to distract. 

She hadn’t needed to distract him. His fingers had felt _amazing._ She only wished he had put more than one inside of her. Maybe he would next time.

She wondered whether she had liked his hand more than her own because of her attraction to him or because she had been so aroused already when he had started. Or maybe she had liked it so much because he had seemed to know what he was doing? A benefit of dating someone older she supposed. She had to suppress a giggle at that, remembering some of Margaery’s past words on what the benefits of an experienced lover entailed.

_”Never have sex for the first time with someone who hasn’t done it before. Girls should always go for someone older for their first time. Preferably someone who has been with a virgin before. Trust me, it’s worth it. They know just what to do with their hands, and they’re usually more willing than young guys to go down on you._ Definitely _have the guy go down on you before he takes your V-card. It’s the least he can do, honestly. Oh, and older guys don’t come the second they’re inside of you!”_

Sansa remembered how she had complained that you couldn’t just _choose_ to have sex with some experienced guy for your first time. You couldn’t choose the person you fell in love with. Margaery had just rolled her eyes and muttered something about incurable romanticism.

Based on what Stannis had made her feel last night, Margaery might very well be right about older men. Sansa went very red at the idea of Stannis putting his mouth where he had put his fingers, but her breathing sped up all the same. When her next thought was of Stannis on top of her, pushing his cock inside of her, she had to bite her lip to keep from making a noise. She was glad that Stannis and Shireen were absorbed, doing their adorable father-daughter bonding thing. They wouldn’t notice her. If Stannis saw her right now, she was almost certain that he would at least _suspect_ what she was thinking, and she didn’t want to distract him from Shireen.

It was getting difficult to stick to her principles, the more she experimented with Stannis. She found herself half-wanting him to push her, lead her just a little further, coax her into going all the way. That way she could have what she wanted, but it wouldn’t be purposefully disregarding her rules. It would just _happen_. 

The idea of him losing all control and in the heat of passion… slipping into her - when her senses had been addled by too many orgasms, and he just _couldn’t help himself,_ and it would all be a little forbidden and exciting - was actually starting to make Sansa rather hot and bothered. She knew she wouldn’t _really_ want it to happen that way, but it was a surprisingly erotic fantasy. 

If only she were somewhere where she could have some privacy...

Sansa crossed and uncrossed her legs in frustration, trying to think of something else, but the look Stannis had given her last night kept showing up in her memory, as clear as if it were happening in the present moment. It had been breathtaking to see him look at her with that barely restrained need - desperate and tortured and pleading. She had felt dizzy with power at the sight, knowing that she had produced such an effect. At the same time she had felt strangely powerless, because she couldn’t imagine denying him anything if he looked at her like that.

It was a little frightening to realise how easily Stannis would be able to convince her to abandon her rules and just spread her legs for him. If he wanted to, he could take her -- and she’d _love_ it.

Did that mean that she loved him? She had never been in love, but she had always been convinced that she would know right away. It would be like in the pop songs she had liked when she was younger -- and still secretly listened to even though she pretended to like indie rock now. All the signs would be there. Love meant that she’d get weak in the knees just from kissing, and that she would think about him constantly, and she’d rather spend time with him than eat or sleep, and - and it would just _feel like love_.

She knew she was definitely ‘in lust’ as Margaery called it. That was the initial stage of any infatuation. It had been different with Joffrey because they had both been stupid kids, really. She remembered thinking about kissing him a lot, at the start. Before she understood what he was. He had pressed for more, but she had never fantasised about him like she was fantasising about Stannis.

Sansa looked on as Stannis - shirtsleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms - gestured at dials, buttons and switches, and explained something to a fascinated Shireen. He struck an impressive figure. While he would probably never be chosen to grace the cover of a teen magazine like the famous singers she had used to crush on, he was still very handsome in her opinion. More handsome the more she got to know him, unlike Joffrey who had only appeared uglier to Sansa as their relationship wore on. She was glad of the difference. The more her relationship with Stannis differed from her relationship with Joffrey, the better.

Standing up would probably help to clear her head, she thought. Sansa walked over to the railing on the starboard side, looking over the blue waves and towards the white coastline that was steadily creeping forward. It was too far away for her to notice any details such as houses or individual trees, but she could discern the overall impression of sand, cliffs, or clumps of green growth. It was a magnificent view, just like a postcard. 

The beauty and the peace of her surroundings did their work, calming and soothing her. When she returned to her seat, she was able to focus on her romance novel, allowing her to put the thoughts of her own love life aside to be analysed at a later time. She spent the rest of the journey to the island alternatively reading and walking - unsteadily, because despite her excellent sense of balance she did not yet have her sea legs - around the boat to observe the changing view.

At the island Shireen lead Sansa on an expedition to see all the ‘sights’ of the place. Sansa humoured the younger girl, but privately agreed with Stannis’ assessment that it was a deserted spit of land. There were some lovely groves of coconut trees, and the two girls picked two each to carry back to the makeshift camp Stannis was setting up. Shireen explained that her father knew how to tell if they were mature, and get them open if they wanted to eat the fleshy, fresh coconut meat. 

“If they’re not mature enough for there to be much meat, it’s still pretty nice to just drink the coconut water!” Shireen told Sansa with a smile.

Stannis seemed to have anticipated the coconuts, and had brought a bowl, a hammer and a screwdriver onto the island. Sansa had eaten fresh coconut before, but it had always been open already. She had never seen anyone open a coconut. She watched with avid interest as Stannis hammered the screwdriver into the coconut to create first one hole, then two and then three and let the coconut water run out into the bowl. Then he used the hammer on its own, just banging away at the centre of the coconut, turning it constantly, until a hairline crack appeared as if by magic. Then _voila_ , the coconut fell apart into two even halves. The pure white meat within tasted delicious, and the coconut water was very refreshing in the sun. 

A single coconut was not enough to satisfy their hunger and even if they were to eat the other three, they would not fill their bellies. They decided to take the three unopened coconuts back to the house to enjoy later, and eat the lunch they had brought with them instead.

Sansa and Shireen unpacked the carefully selected items they had prepared for lunch, shooing Stannis away when he tried to help. They had a particular menu in mind, and knew just what went together and which things to eat first, second and last.

Olives, cheese, cold chicken, hard-boiled eggs, fresh bread, apples, grapes and pesto - all was arranged and eaten in the right order. Washed down with lemonade, of course.

Shireen was having a great time dictating what her father could eat and when, and he was pretending to be annoyed at the restrictions. Sansa followed all the rules, but laughed when Stannis tried to sneak olives after the olive course was over. Shireen pretended not to notice so that she wouldn’t have to scold him.

After they were all sated, Shireen wanted to construct a castle in the sand, since that was a tradition. Stannis looked surprised. “I thought you might not want to, now that you’re growing up.”

“Of course we have to a build a castle! How else will you teach me siege tactics?” Shireen grinned.

Stannis looked at Sansa, but she waved her book and told them to have fun. She didn’t want to encroach on a tradition, and she disliked getting sand under her fingernails. She much preferred snow as building material, anyway. Sansa smiled at a sudden memory of making an intricate castle from snow, only to have Arya and Rickon attack it and stomp it into the ground, pretending they were dragons. She had been so upset. Robb had to spend hours helping her rebuild to pacify her, while Jon and Bran kept Arya and Rickon at bay.

Sansa found a comfortable spot in the shade, just a short distance from the beach where some serious construction work soon began. She kept reading her book, noticing with dismay that she was nearly done with it, and occasionally glanced at the builders to check their progress. When she only had a few chapters to go, she looked up to see Stannis and Shireen approaching.

“ - that’s why it’s important to keep enough food stored up,” Stannis was explaining, “unless you know some fairly accomplished smugglers,” he added. Shireen nodded seriously at his words, as if siege tactics were essential life skills that she was grateful to learn.

“Ready to head back?” Stannis asked when he saw that Sansa was observing them. She nodded, getting up and dusting sand off her clothes.

They all helped to get their things back on board Proudwing and were setting sail in no time at all. Sansa did what she could to help, but Stannis and Shireen had everything under control. They moved with the ease of two people who had worked together for a long time, often picking up where the other left off wordlessly, seeming to read each others’ mind. Soon they were speeding back, heading north along the coast of the mainland.

It was late afternoon by the time they got back, having slowed down to observe some dolphins on the way, and Sansa was relieved when Stannis encouraged her to get back to the house while he and Shireen finished tying the boat to the dock and covering it. She was aching for a shower. Her skin felt sticky with sunblock, and there was sand stuck to her in places where she was relatively certain sand should not have been able to get to. Sansa made herself useful by taking the empty picnic baskets and bags of rubbish with her.

The shower felt divine, cooling her sun-warmed skin and washing off the sunblock and the sand. She could have stayed under the spray forever, but she thought Stannis might like to shower too, so she hurriedly went through the motions of washing and conditioning her hair and listened for any movement outside the door in the bedroom. She had heard the front door open and close, so she knew Stannis and Shireen had returned to the house, but she didn’t think Stannis had entered the bedroom yet.

She continued to listen after she got out of the shower, wringing the excess water from her hair - because towelling it would cause split ends - drying her body and wrapping a towel around her waist. Hearing that the bedroom stood vacant and that Stannis was not impatiently waiting to shower as she had thought he might be, she became absorbed in applying a sweet-smelling lotion to her arms, chest and back.

Realising that she had left the moisturiser she liked to use on her face in the bedroom, she went to fetch it.

Of course that was the moment Stannis chose to enter the room. 

Sansa immediately felt her face go red. She was giving Stannis quite the view. His eyes had widened almost comically at the sight of her, but then he had reined himself in ruthlessly, locking his jaw and dragging his eyes from her exposed breasts to her face.

Sansa’s thoughts were racing. Chagrin and impish delight fought for control as her chief emotions. Why had she wrapped the towel around her _waist_? Should she try to cover up? She didn’t really mind Stannis seeing her; it was fascinating to see his reaction. She just hadn’t planned this, and was therefore a little lost.

He was looking at her face very intently. Maybe he wanted her to cover up? It just felt silly to act ashamed of her body in front of him. She’d seen _his_ chest, after all. Maybe that was different, but they were in a relationship. He’d been touching her breasts just last night. She wouldn’t pretend to feel ashamed of something that she wasn’t ashamed of. Sure, she was a little surprised and embarrassed, but that was normal. Right?

A small, scarred part of her psyche still cringed at anyone seeing her exposed. She determinedly ignored it. This was _not_ like when Joffrey forced her to send him topless pictures and she was not going to let her past control how she responded to this situation.

Taking a steadying breath, she decided to just act as if this were all totally par for the course. That’s what Margaery probably would have done.

“I’m just looking for my moisturiser. Oh, and I’m pretty much done with the shower if you wanted to get in?” Sansa managed to sound breezy and unconcerned. She walked over to her bottle of face cream and started applying it.

Stannis looked completely frozen in place. Since she had moved, his was still staring at the air where her head had been a few moments ago. She wondered if she had broken him. Finishing with her face, she took a step in his direction.

“Stannis?” She made her voice gentle and moved to stand right in front of him, her heart beating fast in her chest. He started blinking furiously and his face was obviously flushed. Sansa bit back a smug smile. Knowing that he was really affected by just the _sight_ of her was doing wonders for her ego.

“I think a shower... Yes. If you’re done,” he croaked, still blinking and carefully not looking down.

“Let me just get my hairbrush and then I can finish up in here.” She smiled at him, enjoying his flustered awkwardness. He nodded stiffly, and she reluctantly moved away from him to go get her brush.

When she returned she let her eyes rake over Stannis quickly. He had his eyes closed, his hands were balled into fists and there was a prominent bulge at the front of his jeans. She would have offered to do something for him, but Shireen was awake, and they needed to start dinner soon. He’d just have to make the water cold when he showered. She might make it up to him later.

“Don’t take too long, we’ll need you to man the grill again.” She let her tone indicate that she knew exactly why he might want to linger in the shower. (She had two older brothers, so she knew about men and long showers.)

Stannis opened his eyes, glanced at her still uncovered breasts for a millisecond, and closed his eyes again, groaning.

“Hurry up!” she laughed, and swatted his arm. He rubbed his face with both hands and obediently went into the en suite without further delay.

Sansa, smiling and shaking her head, went to get dressed. She threw on an old sundress with halters that tied behind her neck, soft from having been washed so often, the colour faded for the same reason. It had been a dark blue, once. She accidentally neglected to wear a bra.

Stannis walked back into the room after only a few minutes of the shower running. Sansa was sitting at the vanity, still trying to get her hair untangled, so it really couldn’t have been long at all. He was wearing his jeans, and probably underwear, but nothing else. It was Sansa’s turn to studiously avoid staring while he walked to the closet and picked out a shirt. She wished they could just skip dinner and go straight to bed. Her idea of tracing the contours of his abdominal muscles with her tongue still hadn’t been explored, after all.

He walked over to stand behind her, using the mirror of the vanity to make sure the buttons of his shirt were properly aligned. She watched his reflection as she finished brushing her hair.

“I did not intend to - _earlier_ \- next time I will knock.” Stannis spoke apologetically, but his voice betrayed a certain rawness. Sansa did not think he was sorry for what he had seen. She suspected he was only worried about having potentially made her uncomfortable. It warmed her heart.

She turned to look at him. “It’s okay, I don’t mind that you saw.” She smiled and bit her lower lip hesitantly before adding a few reckless words. “You can have a better look later if you like.” She did not know what possessed her to say that, but his response was worth the nervous swooping feeling in her stomach.

His pupils blew out and he descended on her, kissing her hungrily. She smiled into the kiss, enjoying the way he buried his hands in her damp hair and relishing the burn of his stubble against the delicate skin around her lips. Before they broke apart he bit her lower lip gently, but slightly warningly. It sent a jolt of heat straight to her centre, and she moaned.

“You said something about manning a grill?” He moved away from her, but his low and husky voice suggested that he would have preferred to stay near.

“Mm, yes. For food. I mean, dinner,” Sansa babbled, feeling fuzzy and a bit silly. She gazed at him dreamily, and he met her eyes with an intensity that excited her -- setting off more nervous swooping sensations.

“Shall we, then?” He gave her room to get up from her seat at the vanity, and went to hold the door open. She followed in a daze. How was she supposed to get through dinner if he kept looking at her like that?

There was a little awkwardness for the first five minutes, but when Shireen joined them, everything became less intense. It was just impossible to be too turned on while chatting with Shireen and cutting up vegetables. With Stannis mostly out of sight, grilling the pieces of chicken the girls had prepared, it was even easier to put her bedroom thoughts aside.

The three holiday-makers lingered for a long time over dinner that evening, Shireen regaling Sansa with stories of previous father-daughter sailing adventures. Stannis contributed occasionally with sailing stories from his own youth. He did so a little hesitantly, but was always met with encouragement. Sansa told them about the time Arya had pushed her overboard when she and her sister had been with the rest of the Starks on a little sailboat in the Mediterranean. She was able to laugh about it now as it had been years ago, but at the time she had been furious.

For dessert they had the three coconuts they brought back from the island, just scraping the fresh meat straight from the shell.

“Mother usually pours rum inside, and drinks straight from the coconut with a straw!” Shireen giggled, ignoring her father’s disapproving look. Sansa wasn’t sure if he was frowning on the mention of Selyse, or the mention of alcohol. Sansa had yet to see him imbibe.

“My parents had something like that on holiday once,” Sansa recalled. She had wanted to try it, but her parents said she was too young.

“Dad doesn’t like rum,” Shireen explained, when Stannis continued to look unimpressed.

“I haven’t tried rum. I’ve only had wine and Champagne before,” Sansa admitted, scraping the last of her coconut clean.

“It’s a vile drink. Sickly sweet,” Stannis informed her, still picking at his own coconut. When he noticed Sansa had finished, he offered her the rest of his own. Sansa and Shireen ended up sharing what he had left untouched.

“Do you prefer beer or wine to spirits, then?” Sansa asked, curious to know whether Stannis ever drank alcohol.

“I rarely drink. I prefer red wine when I do,” He paused, looking uncertain whether he should say more. "The stuff gives me headaches if I drink more than a glass or two.”

“That’s just like Dad. I think that’s why he prefers beer,” Sansa speculated, smiling at Stannis. She wanted him to know that she didn’t think there was anything wrong with drinking in moderation. 

Sansa thought back to a particularly terrible evening when Joffrey invited a few people from school to a party at his house - his parents had been away - and stole a bottle of Tequila from the liquor cabinet. He had been the one to drink the most and had ended up saying some truly nasty things before throwing up over the balcony railing and passing out. She had been terrified, but his friend Sandor had called her a cab and said that he’d take care of it.

Additionally, she’d seen Robert drunk enough times to have no wish to see Stannis in the same condition. Although it would be a little interesting to see Stannis tipsy, she thought. Her imagination drew a complete blank when she tried to visualise it. Despite her curiosity, she thought she preferred for Stannis to keep drinking rarely and little.

“Do you like wine?” Stannis asked, looking as if he were trying to remember what the legal drinking age was in Westeros.

“It’s all right. Best to drink it with some good food. Champagne is nice for parties, too. I like the bubbles,” Sansa told him honestly, hoping that he would not think any less of her.

“Mother let me try Champagne last summer in France,” Shireen admitted, “I liked the bubbles too, but I prefer your lemonade, Daddy.”

Stannis snapped his head around to stare at Shireen when she spoke. He looked quite angry that Selyse had let Shireen drink Champagne. His expression softened a little when Shireen confessed a preference to his lemonade, but he still looked mad.

“Has Selyse let you try anything else inappropriate for your age?” he interrogated, his tone abrupt and clipped.

Shireen flushed. “It was only a tiny little bit. I was curious! And I’m not a baby anymore. In France, kids my age have been drinking watered down wine for years!”

“You are not French.” Stannis crossed his arms and scowled.

Sansa bit her lip, unsure whether to intervene or stay out of the family discussion. She understood Shireen’s curiosity and remembered her own mother allowing her to taste the fancy wines she sometimes served if there were guests. Catelyn always said she would much rather supervise Sansa’s first experiments with alcohol than have her sneak around and try on her own. Not that Sansa would ever have done something like that, but Catelyn treated all of her children fairly and those had been the rules for Robb (and Jon) so they would be the rules for Sansa and her younger siblings too.

Stannis and Shireen had lapsed into a tense silence, and Sansa thought she should probably just try to change the subject rather than butt in with her family’s take on things.

“Why don’t we finish that game of chess from last night, Shireen?” Sansa suggested, breaking the silence. It worked to dissipate the tension. Shireen brightened and jumped from the table. Sansa would have followed her, but paused to look doubtfully at the pile of dirty dishes and then at Stannis.

“It’s fine, I’ll load the dishwasher,” he said, waving her off. He was still frowning, but did not appear upset. Perhaps allowing him some time to think things over by himself was the best thing to do.

Sansa stood up and leaned to kiss Stannis on the cheek. “Thank you. Will you join us when you’re done? Read some more cheerful Nazi history?” she asked, teasing gently.

Stannis did not turn his head or respond to her kiss in any overt way, but she saw his brow smooth out a little, and his eyes softened. He nodded once in response to her questions, and Sansa kissed him again. This time on the lips, but briefly.

“I’ll see you soon, then,” she whispered into his ear, squeezing his arm. Then she was off to find Shireen.

By the time Stannis joined them, the two girls were immersed in the game and barely acknowledged his presence. He started to read, but ended up drawn into the battle taking place on the chess board. He sat behind Sansa, trying to give her advice without ‘cheating’. Instead of outright telling her where to place a piece, he would explain why a certain strategy would work better than another, or drop vague hints. 

This made Sansa incredibly frustrated as she did not understand chess well enough to catch his meaning. Meanwhile, Shireen just laughed at them. She seemed to have forgot all about the tense moment over dinner, which pleased Sansa.

The game lasted longer than any of the previous ones due to Stannis’ involvement, and they had started playing much later than they had last night. Even with help from Stannis, Sansa did not manage to win. It was only natural, Shireen had been learning from her father for years, and Sansa knew Stannis was excellent at chess - Arya always said so. 

Stannis sent Shireen to bed soon after the game was finished, and she did not object. Sansa suspected that Shireen would stay up reading for a while yet, despite her father’s insistence that she keep to a reasonable bedtime.

Shireen had already set the board up for a new game, but Sansa wasn’t in the mood to be crushed at chess by Stannis. She knew better than to hope that he would go easy on her if he was her opponent. (How would she learn?) Instead she walked over to the couch and made herself comfortable. Stannis sat down next to her, stiff and formal until she nudged him into a more relaxed position, his arm hesitantly going around her and holding her to him. She sighed happily and melted against him.

“This is an amazing holiday,” she emphasised the ‘m’ in the word ’amazing’, drawing it out luxuriously, “I wish we could stay here forever.”

“You’d miss your family and friends eventually,” Stannis replied.

“Yes, of course. I just meant that I really love it here.” Sansa smiled at how literally he had taken her words.

“It’s a good location. One of Robert’s slightly more sound investments.” Stannis began to stroke her bare upper arm lightly.

“Mm, that feels nice. Why haven’t you bought your own beach house? You seem to come here more often than Robert, anyway,” Sansa wondered out loud, enjoying the gentle touch of his hand on her skin.

“It seems a waste to keep a house that one only visits once or twice a year. Robert does not give such things a second thought. _He_ never had to,” Stannis grumbled. It sounded as if there was story there, but Sansa was not sure she wanted to dig into it.

“That makes sense.” Sansa decided not to pry. He’d tell her more if he wanted to. She let her mind go blank and just enjoyed the physicality of being held against his firm, warm body and stroked. If she had been a cat she would have purred.

Stannis was quiet for a while, but then he started talking. Almost as if he were talking to himself. Sansa recognised his need to exorcise something from his mind and stayed silent, only petting his chest soothingly.

“After our parents passed Robert became custodian to Renly and me. I was fourteen, Renly was a few months shy of two. The nanny continued to care for Renly for the most part, but Robert had to ‘ _deal with me_ ’. It proved to be beyond him, so he shipped me abroad to military school.” Stannis scowled deeply, but his voice was almost toneless. 

Sansa’s heart was hammering, she hadn’t known Stannis had gone to boarding school. It sounded as if something awful had happened while Stannis had been there. 

She made herself breathe slowly and evenly, and kept stroking Stannis; a wordless gesture of comfort.

“It was not what I had been accustomed to, but it was not hard to acclimatise. I met Davos there.” Stannis exhaled loudly before he kept talking, 

“In our senior year my fellow cadets and I arranged a field trip to Vietnam. It was meant to be two days of testing our survival skills in the jungle, followed by the regular tourist traps, drinking, spending time at the beach. A tradition. Highly encouraged.” He stopped tracing random patterns into the skin of her upper arm for long enough to run his hand through his hair in agitation.

“None of the forecasts predicted the storm.”

Sansa felt as if her heart had stopped beating for a moment. She wasn’t entirely sure if she wanted to hear the rest of the story, but she’d listen. She knew Stannis just needed her to listen.

“I was raised in the Stormlands, so I know a thing or two about storms. The storm that hit us while we were pretending to be soldiers, surviving on our own, using just our skills and our wits to get by in the wilderness…it was like nothing I’d ever experienced.” He paused for a long moment.

“We got hopelessly lost trying to find cover. Our gear and supplies took a beating, some of it wouldn’t work due to water damage, some of it we simply couldn’t _find._ ” He bared his teeth, a shadow of the impotent rage and despair he had obviously felt at the time showing.

“There was no way to call for help, we couldn’t trace our way back to any familiar locations, and our maps only covered the parts of the jungle we were supposed to have stuck to.“ Stannis made a strange sound that might have been a derisive laugh. A hoarse, quick exhalation.

“We knew we would eventually find our way back. We had a compass, and we knew which direction would lead to a river. The problem was food. We had none, and water was scarce too.” He shook his head slowly from side to side.

“We knew how to light fires using wet kindling, and we knew how to set up camp in pitch black darkness. What we didn’t know was which plants were edible and which were poison.”

Sansa could hardly believe her ears. She would have _died_ in the situation Stannis described. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like for a group of seventeen and eighteen year old boys to end up so lost and alone.

“We were able to improvise some snares to catch small rodents, but it wasn’t near enough. After a week we were losing our strength and starting to lose hope.”

They were lost in the jungle for more than a week? Sansa felt herself go pale. Her body wanted to shiver, but she stubbornly clamped down on the urge. This wasn’t about her.

“Davos saved us.” Stannis didn’t smile, but a grimly satisfied tone could be heard, entering his voice.

“He sacrificed himself, testing any and all plants we found that seemed like they might be edible. The reckless bastard was the only one of us who had paid even a little attention in biology and botany,” Stannis sighed, “he would have been poisoned to death if we had been lost for one day longer than we were.”

“Two weeks, all together.” He muttered.

Sansa blinked back tears. It was all just _too terrible._ She sniffled pathetically. The sound seemed to wake Stannis up from the trance he had been in.

“I try not to be too wasteful after - after that.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

Sansa pressed herself tightly against him, a few tears escaping and soaking into the material of his shirt. She wanted to express her sympathy and sorrow for his terrible experience, but words did not seem adequate. Stannis tightened his hold on her in response, and she hoped he was at least a little comforted. They stayed that way for a long time, just breathing.

Stannis broke the silence eventually.

“Oddly enough, Davos was the only one in our group who ended up enlisting. He was in the Westerosi navy for five years. Before he came to work for me.” He sounded lighter and Sansa knew he was attempting to break the dark mood his story had created.

“I’d love to meet Davos,” Sansa said, sounding a little bit as if she had a head cold. She sniffed, trying to clear her airway a little.

“He has expressed the same sentiment regarding yourself. I’m sure something could be arranged.” Stannis had started to stroke her arm absently again.

“That would be really nice. Is Davos married?” Sansa was curious. Stannis had often mentioned Davos, but he’d never made any referenced to the man’s family situation.

“Yes, and he has three sons. He and Marya married around the same time as Selyse and I did. His oldest son - Devan - is around Shireen’s age,” Stannis elaborated. There was a hint of fondness in his tone - if you knew how to listen for it.

“Did you ever want a son?” Sansa asked before she thought the question through. When she realised how inappropriate it was for her to ask this, she flushed and started to stammer out an apology. Stannis cut her off. 

“Not with Selyse.” There was an absolute finality to the cold statement, but she noted that he did not deny the desire to have a son. Thankfully, it did not sound as if she had offended him. She decided to push her luck a little.

“But if you married again, and your wife was pregnant, would you rather another daughter or a son?” She held her breath, hoping she wasn’t upsetting him.

Stannis considered her question, and kept stroking her. Clearly not upset, but thoughtful.

“I believe the politically correct thing to do is to have no preference. Renly also likes to inform me that daughters and sons don’t always identify as daughters or sons forever. He tells me some people identify as neither,” he hedged, fair to a fault.

“Yes, I know. I follow his blog,” Sansa interjected. Whenever she scrolled through her feed she could always recognise Renly’s posts without even glancing at his handle -- full of indignant outrage on behalf of minority groups. _Usually good reminders to be more considerate of other people,_ Sansa thought.

“Well, to answer your question in the spirit in which it was asked, I would be curious to know if raising a boy would be any different than raising a girl. If I did have a boy, I think I would not want more than one,” Stannis answered, his words pensive and considered. “Baratheon brothers don’t always get along too well,” he added dryly.

Sansa giggled against his chest, muffling the sound. She wasn’t sure it was appropriate to laugh, and it felt strange after having been crying moments ago, but the pressure on her lungs which had been making it hard to breathe seemed to disappear.

“You seem to get along with Renly just fine.” Sansa smiled, and she was glad that her voice no longer sounded as if she were stuffed up.

“Renly and I… I suppose, yes.” Stannis seemed reluctant to discuss it.

“You don’t have to explain, I completely understand weird sibling relationships,” Sansa said, thinking about Jon and Arya, and her complicated feelings regarding them. Especially Arya, since she had mostly put aside her issues with Jon. She hoped to have a better relationship with her sister when she grew up a little. Hopefully, maturity would bring Arya to a place where she wouldn’t feel the need to torture her all the time.

“Weird is an apt description,” Stannis sighed, pulling Sansa a little closer. He did it very tentatively, but Sansa could tell that he desired much more contact. He was simply too reticent to ask. Sansa sat up, moving away from him for a moment. She could see his face now, and noticed a frown that could almost have been called petulant appear. Sansa suppressed a giggle. Obviously he was not pleased that she was moving away. She remedied this by straddling him in an what was becoming an increasingly familiar way. 

That wiped the frown from his face.

With their chests flush against each other, her face in front of his, and something that was growing increasingly harder pressed deliciously against her centre, Sansa felt completely at home. A few weeks ago she would have been wondering at her bravery and blushing furiously. Now the position seemed rather tame.

Stannis was looking at her, blue fire in his eyes, obvious tension in his neck and jaw. Seeing the tension made her want to kiss it away, get him relaxed and carefree. Since there was nothing to stop her from doing so, she started to do just that. She kissed him everywhere she could see the muscles straining against his skin. Along his neck, up his jaw, his cheek, and down to his lips where she lingered longer than she had planned because he held her captive there with his quick tongue and refused to let her go…

Before she could think a coherent thought, she was moaning into the kiss and his hands were roaming freely from the nape of her neck, down her sides to her hips, up and brushing by her breasts - his fingertips just barely coming into contact with them - digging into her hair by the handful, stroking lightly, raking her skin with his extremely short fingernails, grabbing and holding.

He never quite touched her breasts properly, not the way she wanted him to, and Sansa was starting to go mad with need. She felt like she was burning up, and she thought it would really help if he would just knead and flick and stroke her breasts like he had last night. This time she wanted to try it without the nightgown in the way.

Remembering her bold words from before dinner, she decided to break their kiss and move back a little. She wanted to give him better access so she pulled at the haphazard bow she had tied behind her neck, letting the dress fall down to expose bare skin all the way to her waist. She was grateful to her past self for ‘accidentally’ forgetting the bra. She did not want to struggle with that right now. She wanted to let him look.

Sansa remembered their date at the ballet, when she had worn her most va-va-voom red dress and one of the bras that Margaery had made her buy, with gel padding that pushed everything she had up to her neck. She’d felt almost obscene wearing it at first, but when her mother hadn’t made a peep, she decided she was okay to go out in public. Stannis had definitely seemed to like it. She’d caught him staring a couple of times. It had been so cute. He’d looked so embarrassed to be caught looking. She hadn’t minded, of course. He always looked at her face when he was addressing her, which was the most important thing. Anyway, she routinely caught herself staring at women she didn’t even know if they had impressive cleavage, so she could hardly blame him for staring at hers.

She had worried back then that she was engaging in false advertising, but she had reasoned that Stannis had seen her in a bikini top that hadn’t provided any support or padding to speak of, so he had to know exactly what she was naturally gifted with. If she wanted a little help filling out a dress, she should be free to use any means at her disposal without worrying about ‘tricking’ him.

Well, now he was seeing _everything_. No bikini top, no politely-trying-not-to-look-because-he-accidentally-walked-in-on-her. He hadn’t said anything yet, but judging by the glazed look in his eyes - similar to the one he’d had when she’d caught him staring at the ballet - he was enjoying the view.

His hand came up, obviously intending to cup one of her breasts, but stopped in mid-air. He seemed to snap out of a trance and looked at her, clearly worried that he was overstepping.

Somehow drawing courage from his reactions to her, she decided to be blunt. It had always worked well with him in the past. “If you were going to touch me, I suggest you get to it,” Sansa said pertly, shaking her head a little to get all of her hair out of his way. The motion had the added benefit of thrusting her chest out a little.

Stannis huffed out his sharp little version of a laugh, and did not waste time following her orders. “As you wish,” he murmured huskily, somehow making it sound as if he were just doing her a favour.

He touched her experimentally at first, testing her reactions. She moaned to let him know what she liked. As there was no material hindering him, his fingertips felt unbelievably good when he let them run over her nipples, circling them, catching them between thumb and forefinger... He always adjusted to a gentler grip if she flinched, but became more aggressive when she threw her head back and cried out. As he had last night, he would occasionally give her a moment’s respite to cup her breasts in his palms, kneading softly, careful not to overstimulate her. He kissed her too, hot open-mouthed kisses from her shoulder, up her neck, and to her lips.

Sansa was almost embarrassed at how quickly she was writhing in his lap, wanting to bring herself closer to his groin so that she could feel his erection and grind herself against it, but not wanting to move her chest out of his reach. So she just kept squirming, unable to find relief, while he sent wave after wave of arousing sensations through her. Gods, the things he was doing to her neck... And she honestly felt a little like her nipples were directly connected to _down there_ , his every touch making the ache between her thighs deepen.

Suddenly Sansa heard a feminine gasp that had not come from _her._


	14. A morning run

Stannis froze, but then quickly pulled her tightly against him, wrapping his arms around her protectively, hiding her from view. Then he spoke far more calmly than she thought he had a right to, now that she was finally pressed against his hard length.

“Go back to your room Shireen, I’ll come speak with you in a moment.”

Sansa did not dare to even turn her head to check where Shireen had been standing, even though she was desperate to estimate how much she had seen. She could feel a fraction of the tension in Stannis’ body drain away, and knew Shireen must have left. If he hadn’t been holding her tightly to him, she would have stood up and fled.

“That was unfortunate. We really should not have got carried away out here in the living room.” He did not sound as if he were scolding her, it was more as if he were talking to himself.

“I’m sorry, this is all my fault. Did she - how much did she - ?” Sansa stammered, feeling beyond embarrassed.

“Don’t concern yourself with it, I’ll talk to her.” Stannis didn’t quite sound reassuring, but he didn’t sound angry either. “Why don’t you go get ready for bed?” he suggested firmly, releasing his hold on her.

“Okay. I’m sorry,” Sansa apologised again as she stood up, tying the halters of her dress back around her neck loosely. She watched as Stannis visibly got himself under control, rubbing his face briefly and then clenching his jaw so tightly that she thought he might crack a tooth.

“I’ll be with you in a moment.” 

Sansa could hear the dismissal in his tone so she stopped hesitating and hurried to their room. She might as well get started on her bedtime routine. Brushing her teeth would give her something to do so she wouldn’t be tempted to eavesdrop on the conversation Stannis was about have with his daughter.

She had just slipped under the covers, wearing another impractical nightgown, when Stannis walked in. His cheeks were tinged red with embarrassment, and his hair looked as if he had been running a hand through it repeatedly.

“What did you say to her?” Sansa blurted the question out without thinking. She was too curious to be patient.

“I barely got a word in edgewise,” he grumbled, beginning to undress. Sansa followed the fingers that unbuttoned his shirt hungrily. Her ardour had cooled a little due to the shock of the interruption and the mundane motions she had just been going though in getting ready for bed. She was surprised at how quickly she was back to the point of badly needing to be touched. The sight of him methodically undoing his buttons was just so _sexy._

“She apologised for interrupting us and volunteered a promise to stay in her room after she went to bed in the evenings.” Stannis shook his head incredulously, divesting himself of his shirt. Sansa wondered if he’d take his jeans off in front of her too.

She couldn’t believe how understanding Shireen was being. If what Stannis was saying was true, then Shireen was quite the enabler.

“She really said that?” Sansa prompted, when Stannis took too long to continue. He had been busy hanging up his shirt. She admired his bare back as he did, enjoying the way his shoulder blades moved -- the way the muscles shifted under his skin.

“Yes, and other things I shan’t repeat,” he said, the red tinge darkening.

“Oh, please! You can’t say something like that and leave me hanging. What did she say?” Sansa’s curiosity felt like a living thing, greedy for information.

He ran a hand through his already thoroughly messed up hair. “Nothing important, I assure you.”

Sansa pouted at him, giving him her best Big Sad Eyes

He had started to look for his pyjama bottoms, and was avoiding her eyes. When he finally looked at her, he stopped short, clutching the material of his sleepwear. He sighed and looked at the ceiling in response to her gaze.

“It was just something inappropriately complimentary and encouraging. I can’t remember how she phrased it. Something to do with ‘getting action’.” He now looked about as embarrassed as she’d ever seen him look - including the times when she’d caught him staring at her breasts at the ballet.

Sansa covered her mouth with a hand, her own embarrassment bubbling up as nervous laughter.

“Did she say why she came outside in the first place?” Sansa asked when her fit of laughter subsided. She thought it was odd that Shireen had been out of her room. Even if Shireen had stayed up reading for a while, it had been way past her bedtime.

“Apparently she heard your voice and thought you might be in distress.” Stannis raised an eyebrow sardonically.

Sansa pulled the covers over her head to hide her face. Had she really been that loud? She pulled the covers down again so that she could look at Stannis and see whether he was annoyed with her. He didn’t really _look_ annoyed. Mostly he seemed to be trying to recover from his embarrassment while trying halfheartedly to pat his hair back into place. He must have caught a glimpse of the mess in the dressing table mirror.

“How am I supposed to look her in the eye tomorrow?” Sansa felt another fit of nervous giggles coming on. She suppressed it.

Stannis ran his hand through his hair, paused, looked at the offending hand in annoyance, and sighed. “She is not likely to comment unless you bring it up. I suggest you go about your day as you would normally.”

He noticed that he was still carrying his pyjama bottoms and headed for the en suite. When he returned, he had changed for bed and smelled minty fresh. He turned off the main light, leaving only the bedside lamps on, and got into bed with her. When Stannis clicked his lamp off she took it as her cue to do the same. It was nearly pitch black without them on. They both lay flat on their backs, close but not touching.

Sansa didn’t know if she should press herself against him, or if he just wanted to go to sleep. Had the ‘mood’ been ruined beyond repair? She hoped not, she was still worked up and quite unsatisfied.

“Stannis?” she whispered.

“Mm?”

“Are you going to sleep?” She inched closer and rolled to her side, facing him.

“The idea had crossed my mind.” He sounded like he was a little amused. He probably wouldn’t mind if she used his chest as a pillow, then. Snuggling up to him, throwing a leg over his thigh and relishing the warmth of being so close, she considered what she could say to indicate that she was still burning for him.

“I really liked what you were doing… before.” She tried to make her voice as soft and appealing as she could, careful to keep the volume down as she was speaking right into his ear. To punctuate her words she rocked against him slightly.

“Oh, did you?” His low, rough bedroom voice had her curling her toes.

“Very much. If we were here alone I might decide to stop wearing tops entirely,” Sansa teased, still attempting to sound as seductive as she knew how. It was obviously working, because Stannis _growled_ at her. There was no other way to describe the sound he made.

To accommodate her head on his chest, he had snaked an arm around and underneath her. He used it now to lever her towards him, pulling her almost entirely on top of him. Their legs entwined with one of his in between hers, and Sansa couldn’t help rubbing herself against him, trying to relieve the familiar ache. At the same time her hand started to drift down his torso slowly, a clear goal in mind. She wanted to feel his reaction to her and get him as worked up as she was. That was only fair.

Slipping her hand under his waistband was starting to annoy her a little as it restricted her range of motion, but it felt a little demanding to ask him to take the pyjama bottoms off. When her hand came into contact with his half-erect cock, he let out a hiss, and she could feel him harden in response to her touch. It was a very interesting feeling, gradual but surprisingly quick. She wondered what it felt like for him. Maybe she should ask him?

“What does it feel like?” She stroked him gently, knowing that it was not nearly enough for him.

Stannis exhaled, a loud quick breath. “What does what feel like?” His hips lifted, chasing her hand, seeking a firmer grasp.

“When it gets hard. Isn’t it strange when it just… changes?” She continued to touch only lightly, even though she felt a little guilty for teasing him. When he didn’t say anything, she stopped moving her hand, resting it only lightly at the base of his cock. He tried to press himself up again, but it wouldn’t bring him much relief. She would start moving again as soon as he answered her question, she decided.

After a few more moments he seemed to catch on. “Ah - I don’t - I’ve never really considered - I suppose it’s a sort of pressure?” Stannis sounded uncertain, and Sansa was sure he would not even dream of answering her if he didn’t want her to keep going so badly. She obliged him by starting to stroke him again, more firmly and more like she knew he wanted her to.

“Does the pressure feel good?” Sansa couldn’t even begin to imagine. She hoped he would keep talking. It was very motivating to hear his voice and have her questions answered.

“Not on its own - “ He gasped when she sped up at his words, making sure to squeeze the head a little before starting back at the base, collecting some of the sticky fluid that was already seeping out there to let her hand glide more easily. “It’s - uh - just - aah - pressure that intensely calls for touch.”

Sansa was fascinated by what he was telling her. She had never wanted to be a boy, growing up. Her mother sometimes liked to say that she had been a lady at three. She still didn’t want to be a man, but it was terribly interesting - and maddening - how they had this entirely different anatomy that she would never _really_ understand.

“But the touch feels good?” she prompted, wanting him to explain everything. She wished she could see his face properly. It was too dark to see much more than vague outlines.

“Yes - yes!” He was breathing so hard, now. She had sped up quite a lot since he’d been so cooperative, holding him as tightly as she thought he might like. He moved his hand to pull at his waistband, giving her more freedom to move. If it weren’t dark, and if the covers weren’t in the way, she would be able to see him. She swallowed, feeling nervous but incredibly turned on. It helped to have his thigh pressed tightly between her legs, but she’d need more soon.

“Good like an orgasm, almost?” she asked him. That’s what it felt like for her. Just being touched the right way could be like an echo of her peak.

“No, it’s different,” he gasped out, thrusting into her hand now. He was probably getting close.

“Different how?” She slowed down to a leisurely, but still firm, stroke to give him incentive to be specific.

He made that growling sound again when he realised what she was doing, but started to haltingly try to explain. As soon as he did she sped up again.

“Release is one thing, touch and - _other things_ \- are another.” He paused to take several gulps of air. Sansa blushed at the idea of some day doing these _other things_ with him. She was pretty sure he was talking about sex, and maybe... her mouth? She was glad for the darkness now. Her face felt like it was on fire. “The _orgasm_ \- ah - is not always the - mm - the best part.”

That surprised Sansa. She thought the orgasm was always the best part for men.

“Is there anything I can do right now that would feel better than an orgasm?” she asked him curiously, unaware of how the question affected him.

“Gods, _Sansa_ -!” he groaned, grabbed the hand she was using and steered her towards a brutal, punishing pace, thrusting upwards and panting loudly.

Suddenly he made a sound like he had been kicked in the stomach, and she felt a hot, wet substance leak down the parts of her hand that were not covered by his. She knew he had climaxed, but he didn’t slow down right away - only loosening his hold for a softer grip - and soon their hands had spread the viscous stuff everywhere. She doubted that he just liked making a mess, so he must really enjoy being touched - more gently - while he came down from his high. She made a mental note of it.

When Stannis released her hand, she retracted it slowly - trying to keep the sheets as clean as she could. She wanted to go wash her hands, but she also wanted to stay warm and continue to be held. Mostly she desperately wanted him to touch her. She squirmed a little, trying to rub against his thigh for some relief.

She almost whimpered in protest when Stannis abruptly left the bed, somehow finding his way to the en suite in the dark. When he returned a few minutes later with a warm, damp washcloth, she forgave him for temporarily abandoning her. She could see him now, since he’d left the door to the en suite ajar and the light was on in there. Stannis looked flushed and very rumpled. She wondered what she looked like. Probably all blotchy from all the blushing she had been doing.

Stannis wordlessly got back into bed with her and held out his freshly washed hands for her sticky one. He cleaned her gently with the washcloth, and Sansa knew she was beyond help when even that felt erotic to her. 

The second he put the cloth away she started to kiss him. She ran her hands through his short, very messy hair, and tugged at his hands. She tried tell him with her kiss how turned on she was and how much she wanted him to touch her. 

When she needed to stop kissing him for a moment to let them both breathe, she decided to lick his neck, lathing his skin and even sucking at a spot she liked. She had kissed his neck often, but now she felt extreme measures needed to be taken.

He made an interesting surprised sound when she sucked on the skin of his neck, not quite a yelp, but definitely a little indignant. She tugged on his hand again, pulling it towards the hem of her very short nightgown.

 _Finally_ his hand started to inch up her inner thigh. She spread them eagerly, moaning at the lightest whisper of a touch. She was so ready. She might have blushed at how damp her underwear was, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. All she could think about was getting his fingers inside of her, and touching that spot that made her nerves catch fire.

“ _Please,_ ” she whimpered when his progress stayed slow and meandering.

“What do you want?” he asked huskily, watching her with a hungry glint in his eyes.

“Please, Stannis - I - I want you to touch me,” she begged, invoking his name in her most breathy and needful tone of voice. She hoped it would make him put his hands to use with no further delay.

Sansa cried out with pleasure when he did. This time he didn’t waste time before pushing her damp underwear aside. His fingers felt amazing, starting just as he had the night before by circling the most sensitive part of her, the bundle of nerves that would have her peaking in moments if he continued just like this, using her own moisture to make sure there was no unpleasant friction. He escalated things much faster than last night, knowing what she liked now and responding to her eager cries and encouraging moans. Sansa would not have minded if he had gone even faster, but she was grateful when he didn’t wait too long to gently push a finger inside of her. She nearly climaxed the second he did, but she needed more.

“More - more, Stannis _please_ ,” she gasped in between loud, quick breaths, thrashing her head from side to side and pushing herself closer to his hand, driving his finger in deeper.

He did as she asked, adding another finger - stretching her gently, deliciously - and then using his thumb to move in faster, tighter circles.

Sansa was starting to understand on a purely physical level why she might really want his cock inside of her. His fingers, even two, just did not feel like _enough_. 

She came undone when he started curling his fingers again. Pressing herself wantonly against his hand, She wanted to scream it felt so overwhelming, but she stifled the urge, uttering a muffled cry instead as she shuddered and shook with the force of what she was feeling. 

Stannis kissed her as she was coming back to herself, and she clung to him helplessly.

After a while she settled with her face buried in the crook of his neck and started to drift off to blissful sleep. She vaguely noticed that he reached for the washcloth he had brought out for her and used it to wipe his hand off. She felt oddly unembarrassed about it. It was hard to feel anything except a peaceful glow in her present state. He tightened his hold on her and whispered in her ear.

“Good night, Sansa.”

A faint smile lingered on her lips for a long time after she fell asleep.

***

Stannis woke at his usual ungodly hour, unable to sleep for longer. He should really get up. Even though it was particularly tempting to remain in bed with Sansa wrapped around him, tangling her limbs with his.

It was impressive how intertwined they had managed to become over the night, he thought. When he had shared a bed with Selyse they had always woken up on opposite sides of the bed. He had been under the impression that he somehow repelled, or pushed her away, in his sleep. Apparently he had the opposite effect on Sansa.

Slowly, carefully, he untangled himself from her soft, warm embrace. He got distracted a few times and couldn’t resist running his hands over her bare arms and legs, marvelling at the smooth, fragrant skin. He didn’t allow himself to get too carried away however, so when he had extracted himself completely, he only paused to tuck her in and smooth a few locks of red hair away from her peaceful face before resolutely digging out his sweats and walking into the washroom.

Shireen was awake too, an early bird like him, and he spotted her in the kitchen when he emerged from the bedroom dressed for a run. She was spooning cereal into her mouth and reading a book with a very top-heavy blonde on the cover - and a fireman? He squinted, but couldn’t tell. Was that appropriate reading material for a girl of her age? He had no idea. After last night he didn’t really feel comfortable commenting on it.

He couldn’t believe how terrible Shireen’s timing had been last night. He felt awful that she’d seen him like that. He had once walked in on his parents as a child, and the very thought of it made him wince. He had been surprised at her much less disgusted reaction. She had been downright pleased when the shock wore off. Practically shooing him out of her room to go back to what he had been doing. Perhaps it was different because Sansa was not her mother. Or perhaps it was those books?

“Morning, Dad!” Shireen chirped brightly when she noticed him. He went for the cupboard with the oatmeal.

“Good morning, Shireen.” He sounded more awkward than he usually did. Hopefully she wouldn’t notice.

“Sleep well?” She was smiling at him cheekily. He felt himself redden in response. He needed to go for his run now. No, first he had to eat. He gritted his teeth and went about making his oatmeal, pretending not to notice Shireen. _Very mature, Stannis._ He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

“I slept really well. Out like a light. Didn’t hear any weird noises or anything.” Shireen was definitely teasing him. _Damn it, damn it, damn it._

He gave her a withering glare and started to eat his unsweetened oatmeal faster than was probably wise.

“Is Sansa awake too?” Shireen asked when he was nearly done, apparently genuinely interested. He gave her a suspicious look, but shook his head no, mouth full of the last of his breakfast.

“I’ll be quiet then, let her rest.” Something in her tone and expression seemed to add a silent: _’Seeing as you’ve obviously worn her out.’_

He scowled at her. He couldn’t reprimand her as she hadn’t technically said anything disrespectful, but she was being very cheeky. She was giving him her most innocent look in response to his moody glare. His scowl deepened. He rinsed out his bowl and spoon as quickly as he could, and left the house in an undignified huff. He really needed his run.

The fresh air did wonders for his mood as his feet found and started to follow a familiar running path. His scowl faded, and he felt the tension in his body melt away as he found his running rhythm.

He was relatively sure that Shireen would behave herself with Sansa. She might tease him a tad, which was a little unbearable, but he had specifically asked Shireen to avoid confronting Sansa about what she had witnessed, as what they did together as a couple was not Shireen’s concern. He had of course apologised too, promising to keep that sort of activity away from common areas from now on, but Shireen had been unperturbed and more interested in - _embarrassingly_ \- cheering him on.

Stannis shook his head and sped up. He supposed Shireen could have reacted in worse ways. He was grateful that he had not had to contend with any dramatics - nor would he have tolerated any - but it was all a little strange. He had never expected to be navigating the treacherous waters he found himself in. Bringing a girlfriend into his small family, trying not to upset the bond with his daughter while trying to forge a new romantic bond with Sansa. He had no experience with any of this, and he was convinced that he was mess it all up horribly and they would both end up furious with him. It was frankly astounding that it hadn’t happened yet.

He ran for a while without thinking much of anything, focusing on his breathing and pushing himself to increase his speed, testing his endurance. When he slowed down again, turning around to start jogging back to the house, a memory from last night surfaced unbidden. 

_Sansa, untying the halters of her faded blue dress, quite a lot of porcelain skin being revealed, perfectly shaped, perfectly sized breasts, with rosy nipples at the centre that begged to be touched…_

Stannis almost tripped, but caught himself at the last moment and kept jogging. He gritted his teeth at his lapse in concentration, annoyed to be so fascinated by a pair of tits. He’d seen breasts before. There was nothing that unique about them. 

Except they were _flawless_ and belonged to Sansa.

When he’d rudely walked in on her without knocking, catching her in only a towel around her waist, it had been agonising to make himself look away. Especially since she didn’t make a move to cover her unblemished, glistening skin, seemingly completely fine with the intrusion. Looking away had been the right thing to do, however, so he had done it. 

Of course, when she’d purposefully _shown_ them to him it had been torment in an entirely different way. He had never really considered himself to be the type to ever think about ‘ravishing’ a woman, but that seemed to be the most fitting word for what he kept having to restrain himself from doing when he was with Sansa.

He didn’t mind practising restraint. She’d allowed him to touch her, that was more than he had expected. If Shireen hadn’t walked in on them he might have attempted to move his kisses from her lips and neck down to the new, unexplored territory. Would she have allowed that too? It was definitely more tame than getting her off with his hand, and she allowed that...

Stannis felt certain body parts start stirring uncomfortably, and decided to speed up again to distract himself. He ran flat out for as long as he could, and he could see the house in the distance by the time he slowed down again, tasting blood in his mouth. Maybe he had overdone it?

He couldn’t manage much more than a slow jog - a fast walk? - for the rest of the way. He tried to focus on the scenery for a while, but the clouds reminded him of the weather forecast, and thinking about the weather reminded him of the story he had shared with Sansa about the storm in Vietnam. 

He couldn’t believe he’d actually told her. Why had he done that? He never talked about Vietnam anymore. Not even with Davos.

He’d told Robert, of course. When he had returned to the Stormlands. His brother had never seemed to understand how terrible the experience had been. He had acted as if Stannis had been on a grand adventure. Then of course Robert had all but ordered him to go straight to business school so that he could take over at Dragonstone Tower. 

Dragonstone was the base of operations for a rather lowly branch of Baratheon Industries that did not interest Robert, but it _was_ a vital cog in the clockwork that was the family business, so Robert had dumped the responsibility on him.

Stannis realised he was grinding his teeth and tried to relax his jaw. His dentist was always scolding him for destroying his enamel.

He didn’t regret telling Sansa. He was just surprised that he had. Most of the time he tried to forget it had happened. Wallowing in the past would not change it, but telling her had felt… good. Right. He wanted her to know more of him, just like he wished to know more of her. It had also felt surprisingly vindicating to see her shed tears for him and what he’d been through. It was how Robert should have reacted. 

Vindicating, but not particularly enjoyable. He hoped he would not see her tears again any time soon.

When he reached the house he dashed past the living room and the kitchen to get to the master bedroom. He didn’t see Shireen anywhere and was relieved to escape more teasing. He was surprised to see that Sansa was gone from bed, but didn’t dwell on it. The two of them were probably down by the beach. Although he hadn’t seen them when he had jogged by. Odd.

He got in the shower and enjoyed being able to use warm water after the experience he’d had that day before. Yesterday before dinner, after seeing Sansa -- It had not been the most pleasant shower he had ever had.

Being under the warm spray and thinking about Sansa had the same effect it usually did these days. He looked down at the rebellious piece of his anatomy and frowned, trying to focus on what it felt like. Sansa’s questions on the subject had been surprisingly difficult to answer. He’d never had to describe the sensation before. It had been a little awkward to discuss it, but strangely erotic too. He’d wanted to ask her what it felt like for her in return, but by the time he was touching her she had been a bit too far gone to seem capable of giving any clear answers. 

Not that he hadn’t been completely out of his mind when she’d been interrogating him. _Had he really grabbed her hand and controlled it to get the right grip and speed?_ It just hadn’t seemed like the right moment to ask her about it. Possibly he had been distracted by the sounds she had been making and how tight she had felt around his fingers.

Stannis lost control of his rational mind then, taking himself in hand and slipping into a fantasy where Sansa pleaded for ‘ _more, more, Stannis please_ ’ pulling his hips and his cock towards her instead of his hand, spreading her thighs invitingly…

Stannis didn’t attempt to prolong his pleasure, so he was finished relatively quickly. Feeling, as always, a little guilty about the nature of his fantasies, but he reasoned that while they helped him respect Sansa’s boundaries in reality, they couldn’t be all bad.

After his shower, as he was shaving, he noticed a blotch on his neck that he hadn’t been awake enough to see when he had changed into his sweats earlier in the morning. He examined it closely, wrinkling his forehead in bewilderment.

_What on earth?_

Ah, of course. He recalled the way Sansa had sucked on his skin there, and realised that she had managed to give him a hickey. Thankfully it was low on his neck. A normal shirt collar would hide it.

His T-shirt most definitely had not hidden it, however. No wonder Shireen had been teasing him. He was relatively sure that she was old enough to recognise a hickey for what it was. He sighed and shook his head in annoyance.

Once dressed, he went to search for Sansa and Shireen. He wanted to find out if they were interested in more sailing. If they were, he’d need to go get Proudwing ready. He found the two of them out on the porch, doing yoga. He didn’t know that Shireen liked yoga, and from how wobbly she looked she was only recently learning. Sansa looked at home with the poses, fluidly changing between them. It was quite a sight as Sansa was wearing skin-tight exercise gear, stretching and folding herself into fascinating positions.

“Sansa is teaching me yoga, Dad!” Shireen exclaimed when she spotted him watching them.

“Evidently,” Stannis commented, approaching them calmly. He tugged on his shirt collar, making sure it covered everything.

“When Shireen told me you had gone for a run I thought us girls should get a little exercise too.” Sansa smiled serenely at him, relaxing into the lotus position. Shireen copied her, a look of concentration on her face.

“Would you like to go sailing again when you’ve finished?” Stannis directed the question mainly at Shireen.

“Yes! Let’s look for dolphins!” Shireen beamed at him, drawing out a small answering smile to his lips.

Stannis nodded and glanced at Sansa to gauge her reaction to Shireen’s idea. Sansa’s eyes had brightened at the suggestion, and her serene smile was still in place.

“I shall go get Proudwing ready. Perhaps you could pack some food? Sansa, are you going to join us?” He was near certain that she would, but did not want to presume.

“I’d like to, if that’s all right? I don’t want to impose if you two would like some father-daughter time,” Sansa said demurely, casting questioning glances at him and Shireen.

“You have to come! You only saw a few dolphins yesterday, and no whales at all!” Shireen encouraged Sansa, looking thrilled at the idea of showing her more sea creatures. Then she gave him a pointed look, demanding that he say something too.

“Yes, you are most welcome,” Stannis said formally, not really knowing what his daughter expected him to say. What he had come up with seemed to satisfy her, and Sansa was nodding.

“All right, we’ll just finish up the routine then and make some sandwiches when we’re done. How does that sound?” Sansa looked at them, seeking approval. Stannis nodded curtly, and Shireen smiled.

Though he would have liked to stay and watch Sansa do more yoga, Stannis turned to go. He needed to make a quick run into town for some more supplies before he could get Proudwing ready.

***

The third day of their holiday passed by in a blur of blue ocean waves, clear skies, dolphins, a large fin that Shireen swore belonged to a blue whale, sandwiches out on the water, and a brief fight with an aggressive seagull. Stannis had almost needed to sacrifice his sandwich, but Sansa used her water bottle to squirt some water at the screeching thing, and it ended up flying off with an empty beak.

They got back to the house with plenty of time to lie on the beach or swim in the ocean before dinner, and Sansa started another book in the warm shade while Stannis attempted to teach Shireen the crawl a little way out in the ocean.

They joined her when they took a break, Shireen obviously close to being fed up. She collapsed dramatically into a sitting position next to Sansa, grumbling all the while.

“I don’t see why I have to learn the crawl, I already know the breaststroke,” she complained. Sansa could tell it was an argument she had made many times before.

“The crawl is much more efficient, and faster.” Stannis sounded irritated.

Sansa remembered having the same discussion with her own father at some point. She could clearly recall having the argument at the pool once when Robb and his friend Theon were there, and how Theon had said something that had given her nightmares. She had been too young then to appreciate the humour, but she thought Shireen might laugh, so she repeated it. 

“If you’re in the water with other people, trying to escape a shark, you won’t want to be the slowest swimmer. After all, you don’t have to swim faster than the shark - just faster than the slowest person.”

Shireen widened her eyes for a moment, but then burst into a fit of giggles. Stannis gave Sansa a slightly reproachful look, but she could see that he was a little amused too.

“That sounds like it came from the mouth of a Greyjoy,” Stannis surmised shrewdly.

“Yes, it was actually. Robb’s friend Theon Greyjoy said that to me. How did you know?” Sansa was surprised that Stannis had been able to trace her words to their source so easily.

“I know Theon’s father, Balon Greyjoy. He said something very similar to me once.” Stannis scowled, obviously not pleased with the memory. “I’m surprised your father tolerates Robb’s friendship with Theon. There’s no love lost between the Starks and the Greyjoys. Nor between the Baratheons and the Greyjoys, for that matter,” Stannis added thoughtfully.

“Dad says that children should not be punished for the sins of their fathers.” Sansa tried to repeat her father’s exact words, even though they sounded very old fashioned.

“Eddard would say something like that.” Stannis nodded to himself.

“Why is there ‘no love lost’, Dad?” Shireen asked, curious and happy to delay her return to the ocean for more swimming lessons.

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with. Just some business deals that didn’t go Balon’s way. Eddard and I wouldn’t allow it. Ancient history,” Stannis explained shortly.

Sansa watched his face carefully. It had obviously been rather an important business deal. She could read it in the tension around his eyes. He noticed her looking and made a visible effort to clear his mind of the matter.

“Now, we’re getting back in. Remember to breathe, it’s fine to breathe in every other stroke if that’s what you want, but pick a side and stick with it. Mind that you lead with your elbow, too. Your fingertips should brush the surface of the water while your elbow points up.” Stannis pulled Shireen to her feet and Sansa could hear him continue to explain how she should move in the water until they were out of earshot.

When Stannis was finally satisfied that Shireen had made enough progress, it was time to think about dinner. Shireen was ecstatic that she had finally got the hang of the difficult swimming style, and asked if they could go into town for pizza to celebrate. Stannis frowned at first, saying that there was no reason to celebrate until she had managed the butterfly stroke too, but caved when Sansa sided with Shireen.

It was strange to go out in public as a sort of family. Sansa wondered what the people at the Italian pizzaria thought when they saw the three of them. Did they think She and Shireen were sisters? Or was it obvious that she and Stannis were a couple? They didn’t do anything overtly romantic, but with Stannis fairly relaxed and scowl-free, he definitely looked too young to be her father. Perhaps people thought she was Shireen’s mother, and that she just looked particularly youthful?

She didn’t think on it for very long, soon distracted by pizza and a story about the first time Stannis had tried to teach Shireen the butterfly stroke. The way Shireen told it, she had been sure she would drown. Stannis insisted that she was exaggerating, and that Devan had been fine with the same teaching method.

“He grew up with Uncle Davos teaching him since he was three years old, Dad! It’s not a fair comparison,” Shireen protested.

Sansa smiled at their squabbling, feeling very happy about how the day had turned out.

She hadn’t really liked waking up by herself again, but Stannis was a ridiculously early riser so there wasn’t much she could do about it. She was considering asking him to wake her up when he got up, so that she could at least kiss him good morning, and then just go back to sleep if she didn’t feel like waking up properly, but she had not got around to it.

Even though she had been alone, she had felt very good physically. She could really get used to having her body’s needs satisfied so thoroughly before going to sleep. It made for very peaceful, deep sleeping.

Her warm glow had been doused in metaphorical cold water when she recalled how Shireen had walked in on her and Stannis. It had been very difficult to get herself to leave her room with her head held high, pretending as if nothing had happened. When she had met Shireen in the kitchen, she had blushed furiously. The younger girl had been sweet, however, not making a single remark about the previous evening, only offering cereal and explaining that Stannis was out running. Sansa had decided to do some yoga, and Shireen had asked to learn. The awkwardness had simply melted away after that.

However, after Stannis had got back from his run and then left them to go prepare Proudwing, Shireen had said something that vaguely referenced what she had seen.

“Please keep doing stuff with my dad. I’ve never seen him this happy. I promise I won’t investigate any more noises after I go to bed in the evening. I don’t want you guys to stop because of me.”

Sansa had blushed from the roots of her hair and down to her toes. Or at least that’s what it had felt like.

“I don’t - we’re not - what you saw was…” Sansa had stammered, not really having a clue about what she was trying to say.

“It’s okay, I read romance novels too, remember?” Shireen had giggled and given Sansa a conspiratorial look. “I’m pretty sure my dad hasn’t done any romance novel stuff with anyone since _forever,_ ” Shireen had said meaningfully. “It’s very tragic.”

Sansa had hidden her face in her hands then, not knowing whether to laugh or squeal with embarrassment.

“Just - Don’t stop on my account, okay? And please don’t hurt him.” Shireen had looked at her intently with her big sad eyes, and Sansa’s embarrassment had drained from her system. She understood that Shireen was making a serious request, and deserved a serious answer.

“I really care about your dad. I won’t hurt him on purpose,” Sansa had solemnly promised, looking Shireen straight in the eyes.

The younger girl had nodded, and they had proceeded to finish their yoga exercise and make sandwiches for the sailing trip as if nothing had happened. Sansa was sure that a weight had been lifted from both their shoulders for having discussed the matter, and it had been part of the reason why the day had felt so great.

“Do you two want dessert?” Stannis asked, bringing Sansa back to the present moment.

“Yes, they have really good gelato here!” Shireen exclaimed excitedly.

Sansa looked down at her plate. She still had a slice of pizza left, her wandering thoughts making her a slow eater. Gelato sounded good, though.

“I could go for some gelato.” Sansa smiled. “What kind of flavours do they have?” she wondered, looking at Shireen.

“They’re always different, we have to ask what they have today,” Shireen explained and started to rubberneck around, twisting in her chair, looking for a waiter.

Stannis gave her a _look._ She immediately stopped what she was doing and straightened her back. “Sorry.” She apologised, softly. Sansa looked at her lap to hide a small smile. She remembered learning restaurant etiquette when she was younger, and committing the occasional faux pas, only to be corrected. Arya still hadn’t got the hang of it, and could be relied on to rebelliously declare that she would not act like Sansa just because they were in public.

Somehow summoning a waiter with the power of his mind, Stannis asked for the day’s gelato flavours.

Shireen ended up with a scoop of popcorn flavoured gelato, while Sansa asked for the lemon sorbet. She loved lemon sorbet, and she thought Stannis might be convinced to taste some of it.

When their dessert arrived, Shireen immediately started going on about how they were missing out, how popcorn flavour was the best flavour and they should have got some too. Sansa seriously doubted that, but kept quiet and started sampling her own flavour. She wondered how she could get Stannis to try some and looked at him speculatively. Then, remembering her trick from her graduation party, she spooned some of the pale yellow sorbet up and simply offered it to him. As he had at the party, he looked around a little nervously before accepting the offered treat. Sansa didn’t really get why he would be nervous here, where no one really knew him, but it was rather endearing.

“Not terrible,” was his verdict.

In fact it was delicious, Sansa thought. She finished it in minutes, almost willing to lick the bowl. She knew her etiquette too well to do that, however.

Back at the house Sansa begged off chess, not really feeling up to it for the third evening in a row. Instead she asked if anyone wanted to join her for a walk. The sunset was particularly beautiful, and she fancied an aimless ramble along the beach, barefoot in the surf, maybe take some pictures…

Shireen was very taken with the idea, and insisted that she and Stannis both accompany her. (“Dad can take pictures of us together, then!”)

Sansa had brought an old fashioned film camera along since she had wanted to disconnect while she was on holiday. Her phone was switched off at the bottom of her purse, and that was how it would stay. She wouldn’t even use it as a camera. Stannis had told her that he and Shireen always did this, and she was glad to respect their rules. There was a land line phone at the house in case anyone in the family needed to reach them, but only a select few had the number.

They ended up going through an entire roll of film during their walk, taking pictures of the sunset, the ocean, the beach. There were several artistic shots of their shadows and footprints in the sand, as well as pictures of each other - including one or two with Sansa posing next to a very uncomfortable-looking Stannis (“Smile Dad, smile!”). Sansa could not remember having more fun taking pictures in her life.

She had managed to steal a single kiss from Stannis while Shireen had been busy photographing her toes in the surf, and even though it was a bit rushed, Sansa smiled into it and thought it was perfect.

The three of them whiled the rest of the evening away playing at cards and reading. (Sansa and Shireen played cards, Stannis read his cheerful Nazi book.)

As the evening wore on, Sansa noticed that Stannis was spending less time reading his book, and more time giving her smoldering looks over the top of the hardcover. She met his eyes more and more often, getting increasingly distracted from the card game.

Finally, after yet another easy victory, Shireen did a bad job of concealing a smile and asked whether it was time for her to go to bed.

Sansa blushed and bit her lip, glancing at Shireen and then back to Stannis. Stannis only nodded curtly in Shireen’s general direction, eyes still on Sansa.

“Good night!” Shireen sang, cheerfully making herself scarce.

Stannis slowly - without taking his eyes off her - reached for his bookmark, deliberately marked his place, and closed the book with a snap. Then he put it aside and moved to sit on the very edge of the sofa, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees and bringing his hands together, steepling his fingers.

Sansa felt her heart rate speed up as she observed his every move. There was something about his body language and his gaze that beckoned her to him, and almost without deciding to, she was getting up from the table and walking to the couch.


	15. Rumours

When she reached him, she didn’t know what to say, so she went with something simple.

“Hi.”

He looked up at her with his dark eyes and moved back, sitting properly with his back resting against the cushions, his arms went up to rest on either side of him on the back of the couch, and his legs relaxed into a comfortable looking position, parted and free of tension.

“Hi,” he replied in a hoarse whisper.

He moved a hand, holding it out to her. She took it and he pulled her down half next to him, half on top of him. She let out a surprised, delighted sound and was about to ask him what he was doing when he cut her off with a heated kiss. This was not a stolen, rushed kiss. It was lingering, hungry and deep. It spoke of an entire day of waiting for this moment. She understood because she felt the same way.

She could hardly believe how decisive he was being. So far he’d always been so stiff and formal. Last night she had to coax him just to relax and put his arm around her. It was as if he was an entirely different, much more aggressive person now. It excited her.

Sansa spoke as soon as Stannis broke the kiss to start trailing kisses down her neck.

“Bedroom?” She was a little out of breath.

Instead of responding to her, he stood up, somehow managing to use the motion to sweep her up into his arms, lifting her easily. It was as if she weighed nothing at all. He held her with one arm under her knees and the other supporting her back, Sansa instinctively put her arms around his neck to steady herself as he strode towards their bedroom.

Squealing with delight, she laughingly asked him what he was doing. He just kissed her, using his foot to nudge their bedroom door open and shut behind them. Then he carefully deposited her on the bed, still kissing her as if he’d never get another chance to. She could barely keep up, but she did her best to give as good as she got. She was starting to feel a little overwhelmed, especially since he was hovering over her, trapping her between his arms, pinning one of her legs in place by placing his knees on either side of it.

When his hands started to impatiently pull at her tank top, pushing it up to reveal her bra, she started to wonder if she should stop him and ask him to calm down. She’d never known him so out of control, and a part of her wanted to make sure that he would stop if she asked. She hesitated for a while longer, her body disagreeing with her mind - enjoying the wild kisses, the wandering hands and the insistent hardness pressed against her hip.

But she had to say something when he started to impatiently unbutton her denim cut-offs.

“Stannis, wait. Wait!” His name came out muffled since she started speaking in the middle of another searing kiss.

He immediately dropped his hands away and rolled to the side, sitting up next to her and tensing up. Because it was very dark, he also reached to turn on the bedside lamp nearest to him. It bathed the room in a soft glow.

“Did I hurt you?” His voice was several octaves lower than usual, shaking slightly and laced with concern.

Sansa sat up too, shyly pulling her top back down to cover her bra. “No, nothing like that,” she quickly assured him. He looked relieved, some of the tension leaving his body at her words.

“It was just a little overwhelming,” she admitted, blushing.

He looked deeply ashamed, then, clenching his jaw and swallowing, unable to meet her eyes. Sansa touched his arm to stop him when he appeared to be about to get up and leave. She hadn’t expected such a strong reaction to her words.

“Don’t misunderstand me, I liked what you were doing. It was just a bit fast,” she tried to explain, stroking his arm gently.

“I got carried away.” He gave her a tormented look which surprised her with its intensity. “You were correct to stop me,” he added gravely.

This peaked her curiosity. She reclined against the pillows at the top of the bed, tugging on his arm to indicate that he should follow her example. He needed to relax. He reluctantly did as she wanted, and she continued to stroke him once they were comfortable.

“What would you have done if I hadn’t stopped you?” she asked quietly, feeling his arm tense again under her hand.

“I don’t think - I really shouldn’t - _Gods_ -” He sounded as if he were working himself into a state, so Sansa kissed him softly, cutting him off. Then she moved to sit up beside him, gently pushing him back when he attempted to sit up too. She wanted him lying down. Then she started slowly undoing the buttons of his shirt.

“It’s okay, you can tell me. It won’t scare me. You stopped when I asked, remember?” She bent down to kiss a dark blemish that appeared when the top button of his shirt came undone. Had she done that? Was it a _hickey_?

He didn’t speak, so she decided to press further. “I want to do all sorts of things too, you won’t shock me,” she whispered, hoping her deepening blush wasn’t too noticeable in the dim light.

He swallowed a few times, looking at her as if he couldn’t quite believe that she was there.

“I would have stripped you,” he rasped, his eyes darkening. He watched her intently, obviously bracing himself, as if waiting for her to react with disgust. She was far from disgusted. His words had caused a flood of heat to rush through her, mainly pooling between her thighs and making her want to fidget. She continued to deliberately undo his buttons, bending down to kiss and lick the skin she revealed.

Stannis looked a little shocked that she did not seem perturbed by his admission, but mainly he looked aroused - eyes flashing with desire.

Hesitantly, he spoke again, testing the waters. “Then I would have marked you as you marked me.” He paused, gauging the effect of his words. Sansa but her lip and nodded at him, aware that her eyes were probably just as lust-darkened as his. “Where?” she asked, encouraging him to continue.

He hissed out a breath before sucking in more air, nostrils flaring.

“Your neck, your - your breasts.” He didn’t take his eyes off her, desperate to see her reaction to his words. She moaned quietly to signal her approval, and bent to experimentally kiss a flat nipple that she had just revealed. She was going to take her time exploring his chest with her hands, her lips and her tongue. Hopefully he wouldn’t mind.

“Would you have taken all of my clothes off?” She had risen up and was undoing another button, using her fingernails to very softly tease the skin she revealed. “Even my underwear?” She bent down again to taste his skin with her tongue. It did not taste very different from licking her own fingers, but it was perhaps slightly more salty.

“Y-Yes” He sounded anguished, breathing hard and fast, gasping when her tongue made contact with freshly revealed skin. She was inches away from his navel. His hands had grabbed hold of the bedsheets, knuckles turning white. She knew he wanted to touch her, but did not trust himself to.

“What would you have done with me then?” she whispered heatedly, heart hammering in her chest, feeling almost dizzy with arousal. She had made it to the last button of his shirt, and was kissing skin that was dangerously close to the waistband of his jeans. Rising up, she pushed his shirt apart, revealing his torso completely. She looked at him expectantly, wanting to hear his answer, and started to trace the outlines of his defined abdominal muscles with a fingertip.

He was following her finger with his eyes as if hypnotised, and when he spoke his voice sounded raw with need.

“I would have used my mouth on you until you wouldn't have been able to move even if you tried.”

If Sansa hadn’t been flushed with arousal already, she would have gone red at his words. The mental images they sent flitting across her mind were vivid, frightening her with how intensely they affected her. She did not think she was quite ready for the act Stannis was describing, but _Gods_ she wanted to be.

To distract herself she bent to follow the path her fingertip had been tracing with her lips. Tongue darting out ever so often to tease him. It was interesting to feel how every breath caused his chest and abdomen to move, and she moved with him, relentless in her exploration. In between kisses, she quickly prompted him to tell her more. “What then?”

“I - I - I don’t - I can’t -” He sounded conflicted and ashamed again, unable to get the words out.

Sansa rose up to look at him encouragingly. “It’s okay, it’s just speculation.” She gave him a small smile and moved to kiss his lips tenderly, before moving to playfully graze his nipples with her teeth.

He gasped and gave her another smoldering look that made her clench her thighs together tightly.

“I would have taken you,” he growled at her, still holding on to the bedsheets rather than risk touching her. His words caused her to close her eyes and part her lips briefly, an involuntary whimper escaping her throat. She wasn’t ready for that either, but it was thrilling to hear how he wanted it.

Hardly pausing to think, she quickly undid his jeans and stuck her hand through the useful gap in his underwear, wrapping her fingers around his erection and squeezing firmly.

Stannis threw his head back violently and made a series of incomprehensible sounds, some of which may have been swear words. She wasn’t completely sure they were in English if they were.

“Tell me how,” Sansa demanded excitedly, starting to stroke him slowly and watching his face.

His eyes opened and he looked at her, understanding dawning quickly. She wanted to play the same game as they had last night, the better answers he gave, the more she would move her hand.

“I would have wanted to take you roughly, deep and hard - but I would have restrained myself,” he began. He looked both ill at ease and incredibly excited, eyes glittering with a strange light she had not seen before.

She moved a little faster, frustrated with the restriction of working inside his boxers. _Would he mind if she?_ She looked at him, the question at the tip of her tongue. He seemed to read her mind, pushing his jeans and his boxers down far enough to free his jutting erection. Sansa had to let it go so that she could untangle her hand from the material of his boxers, but she encircled it again quickly, after allowing herself only a brief curious look. It looked similar to illustrations she had seen in books, but being real and within her grasp -- _much_ more interesting. Ink black curls at the base, a little longer than her hand from her wrist to the tip of her longest finger, slightly curved with clearly defined veins standing out along the thick shaft, the head looked red and swollen, though partially hidden by a hood of skin. She would have loved to examine it closely, but it did not seem like the right time.

She started stroking him, less firmly than she knew he would ideally like and more slowly. “How restrained would you have been?” she whispered.

“I would have entered you slowly - carefully,” he stated, just as if he had been stating an unshakable fact. She sped up, but he surprised her by moving her hand away. “Let me show you - I’ll use my hand.” He sounded absolutely convincing, so Sansa let him arrange her on her back, head supported by pillows, and didn’t protest this time when he undid her shorts and pulled them down her legs. Her heart was beating so fast that she was starting to feel faint. He got on his side, flush against her but not trapping her the way he had before. She could feel his uncovered erection, searing hot, pressing against her bare thigh. He only had one free arm, but that did not appear to bother him. He kissed her neck and slipped his fingers underneath her underwear to rub her gently, coating his fingers in her moisture, getting her to relax.

Then he started to whisper in her ear.

“I would have gone slowly to give you time to adjust to the intrusion.” He pushed two, no, _three_ fingers inside of her, agonisingly slowly. She wasn’t sure if she entirely liked it at first, and she mewled and squirmed a little against his hand. Then she got used to it, her inner walls stretching to accommodate him, _adjusting to the intrusion._ Just as he said.

“Every impulse in my body would be begging me to thrust forward and bury myself to the hilt, but I would resist,” he whispered, fingers sinking deeper and deeper, “I would despise myself if I ever hurt you.”

Sansa whimpered and moaned, unable to properly deal with the assault on her senses. It felt so different just to have him relentlessly pressing his fingers deeper. Before when he had touched her he had been manipulating those secret spots that brought her nothing but intense, blinding pleasure. This was more like pleasure-pain, but it was going farther towards satisfying the bone deep urge to be _filled_ than anything else she had experienced.

Stannis stopped, unable to push his fingers in deeper.

“By doing this slowly and carefully, making sure to prepare you first, it should be possible to spare you any unnecessary pain.” He sounded oddly strained as he breathed the words into her ear, his hot breath tickling her skin. She knew what he said was true, Margaery had told her this too. It had not been quite as sexy when she had told her, however.

“What does it feel like now?” he asked, starting to move his fingers in and out, very gently.

 _He expected her to talk while he was doing that?_ Sansa moaned, a drawn out sound that explained what she was feeling much better than anything she might have said.

He stopped. Sansa whimpered in protest, but caught on. He was playing her game.

“Full - good pressure, strange,” she gasped out, desperate to have him move again, “I like the friction when you move,” she managed to add, hoping it would get him to move already. She was starting to feel a little guilty about doing this to him last night. Had it been this frustrating for him, too?

It felt amazing when he started to move again.

“I would have moved just like this at first. Slow, shallow thrusts,” he whispered, matching his movements to his words. She could feel him moving his hips too, pressing his cock against her thigh deliciously. She made a sound that was more like a sob than anything else, except it had nothing to do with crying.

After a while he continued speaking into her ear. “That would not have been enough for you for long, you would have begged me for more.” His voice was becoming a growl again, and Sansa could tell that he was letting go of his control. His cock was digging almost painfully into her thigh, and his hand was speeding up. The increased speed felt amazing, so she decided to play along.

“Yes, _please Stannis_ \- more, more!” she pleaded breathlessly, instantly rewarded with what she asked for, and then some.

He moved to hover over her again, but Sansa didn’t feel threatened. He spoke as he lifted her legs up, arranging them to rest on his shoulders. “I would have taken you like this after that, fast and deep.” He was still using his hand to illustrate his words, and if Sansa hadn’t closed her eyes and thrown her head back in pleasure, she would have seen that he tucked himself away in his boxers to avoid the temptation of being so close.

She could feel his eyes on her, and knowing that he was watching her as he pumped his fingers in and out of her in just the right way, pushed her over the edge. She cried out much more loudly than she had intended, but couldn’t bring herself to care. 

He kept going for a little while, letting her ride out her orgasm, but soon slowed down, pulled his fingers out and switched to stroking her gently. He stopped when she squirmed away, feeling too sensitive for any more caresses.

She lay still for a while, just enjoying the aftershocks, letting her mind go blissfully blank.

When her breathing slowed and her heart rate got back to normal she turned to look at Stannis who had rolled over to lie on his back next to her, after discreetly wiping his fingers with a tissue he had fished out of the nightstand. She noticed that his jeans were still undone, but that his boxers were covering him. She looked at his face, trying to read his expression. She couldn’t make anything of it, especially since his eyes were closed.

“Wow,” she said, smiling and hoping that he would open his eyes, “that was amazing.”

Stannis peered at her, and she could have sworn that he looked embarrassed. Or ashamed, maybe? Something she did not wish him to feel, either way.

“Did you not like it?” she asked tentatively, trying to discover what might be bothering him. Then she remembered that the encounter hadn’t really brought _him_ any relief. She glanced down and saw a definite bulge. “Oh, do you want me to-”

“That’s not necessary,” he cut her off, abrupt and almost angry. Sansa was taken aback. What had happened? Had she done something wrong?

“Stannis?” She rolled to her side and rose up on one elbow, looking down at him in concern. She used her free hand to touch his cheek softly. “What’s wrong?”

He was grinding his teeth again, and the sound made her own teeth hurt. “Did I do something wrong?” she asked, feeling increasingly worried, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“No, you have nothing to apologise for,” he cut her off again, sounding even more angry, “I’m the one who should apologise,” he said, anger draining away to be replaced with bitter self-loathing.

Sansa was confused. What did he have to apologise for? She looked at him in bewilderment.

“I shouldn’t have treated you the way I just did. I shouldn’t have said all those things.” He closed his eyes and his face contorted into a tormented grimace.

Sansa shook her head in exasperated amusement. Had he not listened to what she had just said? What he had done and what he had said had been amazing. It had pushed her limits a little, but in a good way. He had stopped when she asked and hadn’t done anything she hadn’t wanted. Why was he torturing himself?

“I know it was just talk, Stannis. I don’t really think you would have done what you described. It was a fantasy, and I really liked it.” She willed herself to stop blushing and took a deep breath. “There was nothing wrong with how you treated me. I hope I didn’t do anything to make you think that.”

His eyes snapped open at that. “No, you were - there’s nothing -” he took a frustrated breath. “You are perfect.” He closed his eyes again, cringing a little as if he was expecting to be mocked.

Sansa was staring at him, feeling light-years away from wanting to mock him. He thought she was perfect? She might just burst!

She swooped down to express her flattered delight by peppering his jaw with kisses, causing him to open his eyes wide, his jaw slackening in surprise.

Her heart felt like it had somehow swollen to twice its usual size, there was hardly room for it in her chest. She had never felt like this before. The closest she could think of was when she had stopped excluding Jon from her heart, and welcomed him as a brother. This was a much more intense and complicated feeling than that, though.

Stannis brought his hands up to still her face, kissing her lips briefly and then pulling away.

“I did not cross any lines?” Stannis looked at her seriously, seeking her confirmation.

“Toed it a little maybe, but no. It was amazing. _You_ are amazing,” she effused, beaming at him.

He raised an eyebrow at her as if to say, ‘ _isn’t that overstating things a bit?_ ’ but looked pleased none the less. The worry lines were disappearing from his brow, too. She let her eyes travel town his body now that he no longer seemed to be having a crisis of conscience, enjoying the view of his uncovered torso and his open jeans. She also noticed that she was only wearing a tank top, a bra and a pair of rather damp and uncomfortable panties.

“I think I’ll go change,” she declared, although she was reluctant to leave him. She didn’t really want him to move, and she was sure he would get up and change into his pyjama bottoms if she left him alone for spell. She liked him just the way he was, dishevelled and half undressed.

With a sigh she crawled to the nearest edge of the bed, found a nightgown and went to perform her nightly bedtime routine. She was relieved she wasn’t wearing a G-string, it would have made her feel even more exposed, walking around in her underwear.

When she returned to bed, Stannis had indeed changed as she suspected he would. His eyes raked over her form when she emerged, clearly liking her low-cut nightie, but he got up before she managed to slip under the covers, heading for the washroom.

She was surprised when she heard the shower come on, but didn’t really think on it. She reached for her book and started reading, determined to stay awake until he returned. She wanted to ask him to wake her up when he got up for his run. An early-morning kiss would be so romantic…

Sansa started when the mattress dipped and the covers shifted. She had dozed off while she waited for him, her book lying forgotten beside her. She blearily turned to him, seeking and finding a kiss.

“Please wake me up before you go running tomorrow,” she asked, pausing to yawn, “I want to kiss you before you go.”

“As you wish.” He sounded pleasantly surprised by her request, and accepted her easily into his arms when she pressed herself against him sleepily.

She fell asleep with her ear pressed to his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat.

***

Stannis woke up with his nose buried in Sansa’s long hair. He inhaled deeply, enjoying her scent. She wasn’t fully pressed against him, but she was close. They were both lying on their side and Sansa had her back to his chest. Remembering that he had promised to wake her before he left, he inched closer, wrapping an arm around her to pull her flush against him.

“Good morning,” he greeted her, unsure what else to say. He spoke into her ear with his voice even more gravelly than it normally was, feeling a bit strange addressing a sleeping person.

It seemed to work. Sansa’s breathing changed, and she started to move suggestively against him.

“You’re certainly up,” her voice was raspy with sleep too, and it sounded rather attractive on her. He trailed his hand down to splay it over her hip bone, pressing her against his morning wood, hissing out a quiet breath.

“Mmm, are you going for a run like that?” Sansa asked playfully.

“If I get out of bed soon it will go away on its own,” he explained, feeling a little awkward talking about it. He supposed he should get over it. She had had ‘it’ in her hands often enough.

“Is that a challenge?” she wriggled some more, sounding sleepy and happy. “Shall I do my best to keep you in bed?”

“If you had any idea what time it is, I expect you’d want me to leave you be and let you sleep a little longer.” He couldn’t quite keep the amusement out of his tone.

“I _am_ very sleepy,” she said sleepily, thinking it over. “If you kiss me I will not try to keep you here,” she generously offered.

“A fair and just proposal. I agree to your terms.” He moved to make a little space, touching her shoulder to indicate that she should lie on her back. She did, and he leant over her to kiss her soundly. She made a pleased humming noise against his lips and and pouted when he broke the kiss.

“Go back to sleep,” he said, trying to make it more a suggestion than a command. Hopefully he succeeded.

Sansa yawned. “Have a nice run.” Her words were almost lost on him, mumbled and unclear as they were. She was asleep by the time he finished changing into his sweats, and he tried to close the bedroom door quietly when he left.

Shireen greeted him in the kitchen again, giving him a knowing look but making no comments. They ate breakfast in a companionable silence, broken only when Shireen commented on the weather and asked if they could go sailing later. Stannis said they could discuss it with Sansa when she was up.

It was another beautiful morning in Dorne, and Stannis decided to run a trail he usually avoided. It was slightly longer than his usual route and would take him by a nearby lighthouse. The view from the lighthouse was particularly nice and he considered whether he should bring Sansa and Shireen up there later.

He paced himself, knowing that he would be running up a steep hill soon, and his mind wandered. Thoughts of Sansa were close to the surface, and last night was particularly vivid in his memory.

How had he let himself get so carried away? Sansa had assuaged his guilt slightly with her words last night, but he was still berating himself for letting his baser instincts take over. The worst part was how much he had enjoyed letting it happen. Talking about all of the things he wanted to do with her, having her play along and look so damn aroused by everything he said… It was intoxicating. Almost too intoxicating. He’d had to spend a long time in the shower before going to sleep, working himself over to reach an acceptably relaxed state.

A part of him felt unrepentantly victorious about the progress they were making. It was a small part, but loud and obnoxious (kind of like Robert). He was usually much better at repressing it.

It was just that Sansa didn’t make him feel like he _needed_ to repress that part of him. She seemed to accept it eagerly, teasing it out of him even. Just as she accepted everything else about him. Sansa was so different from Selyse that it astounded him.

He reached the foot of the steep hill that the lighthouse was built on, and focused on maintaining a respectable speed as he started to steadily ascend. His mind cleared of all clutter as he pushed himself physically, testing his endurance.

At the top of the hill he stopped to rest for a while, looking over the ocean and spotting Robert’s house in the distance. The sight filled him with a warm feeling that had nothing to do with the early morning sunlight. _Sansa and Shireen were inside that house._

The clarity that exercise afforded him was often useful for solving difficult problems he faced at work, but while he was on holiday with Shireen he always left all work concerns behind. It was part of their holiday agreement. No cellphones switched on, no business, no superfluous interruptions. So instead of having a work related epiphany, he was edging towards a different sort of realisation.

He was starting to _really_ care about Sansa. The thought of hurting her - the thought of _losing_ her - caused a painful constrictive feeling in his chest. He wished he could know if she felt the same, and somehow make sure that she would not leave him. The thought of her even looking at another man was agony. 

A mental image of Sansa, locked away in a tall tower, a powerful dragon with his own dark blue eyes guarding her jealously, popped into his head. He allowed himself to imagine the dragon roasting Joffrey Lannister and Petyr Baelish, before dismissing the ridiculous fantasy.

There was no way to prevent Sansa from coming into contact with other men. He would simply have to try to be better than them. Treat her better than anyone else could. Then perhaps she would continue to choose him.

Having caught his breath, he started to make his way back down the hill and to the house, maintaining a punishing speed that did not allow for any wandering thoughts.

When he approached the door of the house, panting and charged with energy, he could hear the phone ringing. He had seen Shireen and Sansa down by the ocean when he had jogged past, so he knew they would not be picking up. He therefore hurried inside to answer, pulling his T-shirt up to wipe his face of sweat.

“Stannis speaking.” He managed to sound relatively normal, not too out of breath. He wondered who it could be. There weren’t many people who knew this number, and none of them would call just to say hello. He hoped nothing serious had come up.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Selyse sounded cold and _furious._ Stannis furrowed his brow in confusion, every muscle in his body tensing up at the sound of her voice.

“Good morning, Selyse,” he deadpanned, “what seems to be the problem?”

“The problem is that you are exposing my child to some tawdry affair with that _whore!_ ” Selyse spat viciously. “I want Shireen with me in France no later than tomorrow.”

Stannis felt like he had been doused in ice water, the hairs on his body rising up uncomfortably. How did Selyse know Sansa was at the house with him and Shireen? That was none of her business. And how dare she call Sansa a whore?

“What?” he barked, shock and anger in his tone.

“Don’t play dumb. There are pictures of you with your little gold digger in all the gossip blogs. Seriously Stannis, I expect this sort of thing from Robert - but you? How could you? The tart barely looks old enough to vote!” Selyse was almost shrieking now. Stannis moved the phone a little away from his ear, grimacing. The irony of Selyse accusing Sansa of being a gold digger set his teeth on edge.

And pictures? What kind of pictures? Stannis thought about every interaction he had shared with Sansa in public over the past few weeks. There was nothing he could think of that would cause such a reaction from Selyse. _Unless that garden outside the Japanese restaurant hadn’t been as private as he had thought…_ He needed to see them for himself.

“Did you hear me, Stannis? I want Shireen in France. Tomorrow,” Selyse repeated, obviously irritated with him for staying silent.

“You have a right to spend time with her, of course. I will ask her if she wants to go,” Stannis offered, trying to sound calm.

“You are not ‘asking’ her. I am buying a ticket for her as we speak, she will be on the plane or I am talking to my lawyer!” Selyse threatened, a note of hysteria creeping into her voice.

Stannis knew it was no use trying to reason with her while she was like this. He sighed in annoyance.

“Fine. Email me the details,” he ground out through clenched teeth and then hung up without listening to her response. Hanging up a phone used to be so much more satisfying, he thought, staring at the innocuous red button on the handset. 

Selyse let Shireen drink Champagne before she was even thirteen and somehow _he_ was the destroyer of her innocence. Typical.

He replaced the phone where he had found it, groaned and scrubbed at his face with his hands. What the hell had happened? He paced around, again trying to think of every instance that he and Sansa had been in public together. What really worried him about what Selyse had said was the fact that she said he was exposing Shireen to Sansa. That meant the pictures most likely showed all three of them. Which meant that they had to have been taken at some point in the past few days. 

He thought about all the pictures they had taken last night and was briefly consumed by the absurd fear that Sansa had betrayed him by sending her pictures to gossip blogs. Then he remembered that her camera was an old fashioned one that used film. She couldn’t have had the film developed already, and she hadn’t had any chances to physically mail the film anywhere.

He felt guilty for even thinking it, and spent a few moments mentally chastising himself. Sansa would never do anything like that.

Stannis grabbed the phone again, dialling from memory.

“Seaworth here.” Stannis could hear the faint noise of a busy office in the background of the call. Davos was obviously at work.

“I need you to check something for me.” Stannis got straight to the point. Davos would not be offended.

“Stannis? I thought you were on holiday in Dorne with Shireen.” Davos sounded surprised. It was no wonder, Stannis never called Davos while he was at the beach house.

“Selyse just called me, shrieking at me over some pictures that are apparently making the rounds,” Stannis explained.

“Ah, I see. They’re nothing special, she’s wrong to be upset over them.” Davos had obviously seen the pictures too. Stannis relaxed a little. They couldn’t be that bad if Davos sounded so unconcerned.

“I’d like to see them for myself,” Stannis said, peering out the window to make sure that Sansa and Shireen were still down by the sea.

“I’ll send you some links. Do you have your computer?” Davos asked.

“No, just my phone. I can switch it on to have a look.” Stannis went into the bedroom to look for the device. He powered it on and waited impatiently for it to come to life so that he could open the message Davos had just sent him. The connection was slow, but eventually the images loaded.

Stannis furrowed his brow, confused and angry. Who had been following them? These images were taken around the beach house and at the pizzaria last night. He recognised the first few easily from when he had been messing around with Proudwing and had been covered in engine grease. The first picture showed him gazing intently at Sansa, while Shireen stood to the side. Another showed him grabbing Sansa’s shoulder with Shireen gone from the shot, the third showed Stannis and Sansa kissing near the front door of the house. His stomach churned at the invasion of his privacy, but at least the photos showed nothing indecent.

The next few pictures were taken at the pizzaria, showing the three of them talking and eating. One had caught Sansa feeding him lemon sorbet. He was surprised at the intense way he was staring at Sansa in all of the photos. A casual observer could assume Stannis barely noticed Shireen, being so wrapped up in Sansa. He gritted his teeth. They must have selected only those pictures where he was looking at Sansa for publishing.

The last few were taken at the beach last night. They showed Shireen pointing a camera at Stannis and Sansa, and then they had somehow captured three pictures of the brief kiss Sansa had stolen while Shireen had been busy taking photos in the surf. Again he looked wrapped up in Sansa at the expense of his daughter. _Damn it._

No wonder Selyse was angry.

“Stannis?” Davos sounded like he had been trying to get his attention for a while.

“These pictures are of poor quality,” Stannis said, feeling at a loss.

“Yes, they’re obviously taken from far away with a powerful zoom lens. Except the ones from the restaurant, those look like they were taken by someone at a nearby table, probably just with a cellphone,” Davos speculated thoughtfully. “Would you like me to get someone to dig into the sites that posted them? Try to find out where the photos came from?”

Stannis shook his head, realised that Davos couldn’t see him and stopped. “No, that would be a waste of time,” he sighed. He had been looking forward to another relaxing day with Sansa and Shireen. Now he had to cut his holiday short to get Shireen to France, and he might have to go to the office earlier than he had planned to do some damage control.

“Has anyone at the office said anything?” Stannis hated himself for asking. He usually didn’t care what his employees said about him, but this wasn’t just his reputation. It was Sansa’s. She didn’t deserve to have her name dragged through the mud.

“Well, most of the sites are writing the same drivel - you’re a cradle robber, she’s a gold digger - but one blog posted a theory that the people at Dragonstone have been discussing quite a bit,” Davos told him a little apologetically, obviously feeling sorry to be the bearer of ill news.

“Well?” Stannis snapped impatiently when Davos did not immediately elaborate.

“It’s an interesting theory. I gather it points out how Sansa’s first paramour was Joffrey Baratheon - Lannister now - and how interesting it is that she’s with you now that Joffrey is no longer next in line to inherit the majority share of Baratheon Industries. It also points out how Robert and Eddard Stark are old friends. The people behind the theory are speculating that Robert and Eddard originally arranged for Sansa and Joffrey to marry to cement the business ties between their two companies, but when that plan fell through... They’re wondering if Sansa is being given to you instead. There’s even talk of whether Baratheon Industries and Stark’s company are heading for a merger.” Davos took a deep breath and was silent. He sounded like he was waiting for Stannis to start yelling.

Stannis did not yell. He was too busy being absolutely dumbfounded by that terrible excuse for a theory. Of all the ridiculous, absurd, _idiotic_ ideas...

Who on earth could have thought of something like that? _Arranged marriage?_ Who had an arranged marriage these days? How would anyone ‘give’ Sansa to him? She was a person, not a complimentary pen.

This kind of rumour, dealing with a possible merger between two companies, could possibly influence the stock markets, however. He would have to get back to work as soon as possible and put out some fires.

“Call Robert and notify him. Get Renly to put together a statement. Baratheon Industries are not planning any mergers in the near future, although we hope to continue the good relationship we have always maintained with Stark and Sons. _No comment_ regarding my relationship with Sansa. It is none of their business,” Stannis ordered, knowing he could trust Davos to make sure Renly did as he asked.

“Of course. Anything else?” Davos sounded calm, collected and in control. It helped Stannis to hear it.

“No, I think that’s all for now. I’m driving back to King’s Landing today. I don’t know when I’ll be arriving exactly, but I expect I’ll come by the office as soon as I can.” Stannis paced back and forth, feeling restless.

“All right, I’ll wait for you,” Davos promised loyally.

“If I’m not there before dinner, go home to Marya and the boys,” Stannis instructed, not wanting to be lectured for working Davos to death next time he saw Marya.

They exchanged goodbyes, Davos wishing him a safe journey, and ended the call.

Stannis turned his cellphone off after taking another disgusted look at the pictures. He honestly thought Dorne was far enough away from King’s Landing to keep this sort of thing from happening. That’s why he had let his guard down. _What a stupid mistake._

Setting his cell down on the nightstand and taking the cordless house phone back to its cradle, Stannis thought about whether he should shower first or go talk to the girls right away. He decided to shower first. He’d give the two of them a bit longer to enjoy the holiday.

It was not a long reprieve since he took a very quick and efficient shower, then dressed as fast as he could. He had been about to walk out the door towards the beach when he heard Shireen’s voice. It was getting more audible so he assumed she and Sansa were approaching the house.

He moved back to the living room so they wouldn’t walk right into him when they entered through the door and waited for them. He wanted to pace, but forced himself to stand still and clasped his hands behind his back. He tried to fix a neutral expression onto his face, but he probably still looked mildly annoyed. Perhaps that was neutral enough for him.

Sansa and Shireen were laughing when they entered the living room and did not look concerned to find him standing there.

“How was your run?” Sansa asked cheerfully.

“It was fine,” he said quickly. “I have to talk to you both about something.” Stannis steeled himself. Delivering the news of what had happened wasn’t the most exciting prospect, but he needed to explain it to them so they could pack quickly and leave as soon as possible.

Sansa seemed to sense that something had gone wrong. Her face fell and a guarded look took the place of her previously cheerful one. Shireen noticed the change and looked from Sansa to him in puzzlement.

“Dad, what’s wrong?” she asked with a worried expression.

“There has been an unfortunate development. We need to return to King’s Landing today. Your mother has also requested that you join her in France tomorrow,” he told them, speaking in clipped sentences.

“What?!” Shireen exclaimed, surprise and confusion colouring her voice. Sansa was staring at him intently, clearly attempting to read the truth of what had happened in his eyes.

“Yes, what sort of development?” Sansa asked softly, keeping calm.

“I don’t want to go to France yet!” We were supposed to stay here for three more days!” Shireen objected. Stannis gave her a look to quiet her. She lapsed into a moody silence.

“Apparently we have been photographed by imbeciles who believe our holiday is somehow noteworthy.” He grimaced and rubbed one of his temples, feeling a headache coming on.

Sansa groaned and walked over to her purse. It had been hanging on one of the chairs. She dug her cellphone out and turned it on. As soon as it came to life it started to make noises indicating received messages. She silenced the noise quickly, but her eyes widened as she examined the screen.

“The pictures aren’t that bad, but the things they’re saying are awful!” She sounded hurt and offended, worrying at her bottom lip as her eyes darted back and forth, reading.

“Let me see!” Shireen went over to peer at Sansa’s phone. Stannis knew better than to stop her. If she wanted to see the pictures there was not much he could do to prevent it from eventually happening. Might as well be now.

Suddenly Sansa snorted in an unladylike way. “Stannis, did you know that Robert and my dad conspired to arrange our marriage? They’re merging the companies!” She shook her head in amused disbelief. “Do people still arrange marriages?” She looked at Stannis with a raised eyebrow.

“What marriage?” Shireen asked, looking confused.

“No one is getting married, and no one is merging any companies,” Stannis growled. “However, I do have to do some damage control at Dragonstone, and Selyse saw the pictures and thinks I’m corrupting your innocence. So you have to go see her in France and convince her that you’re fine,” he added, barely restraining himself from rolling his eyes when he explained what Selyse was worried about.

“Corrupting my innocence?” Shireen repeated, disgusted and bewildered.

Stannis felt himself flush a little, remembering that he had inadvertently exposed Shireen to some slightly more adult behaviour than was probably good for her. Perhaps Selyse was not entirely wrong to question the wisdom of this holiday.

Shireen seemed to have followed his thought process. “I’m not a baby! I can handle seeing people kiss. And have you even read a romance novel, Dad? Because I have, and there’s not much about sex that isn’t described in detail in those books. So, good luck corrupting me after that!”

Stannis wanted to go temporarily deaf and lose the memory of Shireen saying that to him. He did not want to think about his daughter reading graphic sex scenes.

“Fine, fine. I’m not corrupting your innocence. Good to know. Tell your mother.” He waved his hands at her, hoping she would stop talking about it. Forever.

Sansa had put a hand over her mouth, obviously amused by the exchange, but trying not to laugh. He felt a twinge of annoyance at the sight. Couldn’t she try to be helpful?

“Sansa, could you start packing our clothes while I get the food organised?” he asked, trying to mask his irritation. He reminded himself that this wasn’t her fault.

Sansa sobered immediately. “Of course, shall I strip the bed too?” she offered sweetly. Stannis nodded at her, feeling mollified and liking her dutiful response. She was obviously capable of acting like an adult in a stressful situation. He thanked her and she left to do as he asked.

“I’m sorry about this, Shireen. I’m sure your mother means well.” It left a bitter taste in his mouth to say it, but he would not stoop to fostering ill will between Shireen and her mother.

Shireen sighed despondently. “I know. I’ll go pack.” She gave him a weak smile and dragged her feet all the way to her room.


	16. A secret meeting

Stannis strode into the office at Dragonstone near the end of the work day, scowling and glaring daggers at anyone who was too slow about getting out of his way. Davos had met him as soon as he stepped off the elevator, immediately handing him a file with a draft of the press release Renly had worked on for most of the day, and an overview of all the relevant stock prices as they currently stood.

Once they were behind closed doors in Stannis’ corner office, Davos spoke.

“It’s not as bad as when Robert had his last scandal, Stannis. This ought to blow over in a few days. We just have to issue that statement and relate the facts to the board.”

Stannis sat down and let his head fall back, exposing his neck. Then he remembered the hickey and hurriedly straightened himself out. He glanced at Davos. Davos was abnormally straight-faced. That meant that he’d noticed. _Damn._

“What did Robert say?” he asked reluctantly, not really wanting to know the answer.

“After he stopped laughing?” Davos raised an eyebrow. “He said something about how he should have thought of arranging a marriage for you a long time ago.”

Stannis groaned and rolled his eyes. His brother was _useless._

“And he said he’d talk to Ned. I mean Eddard,” Davos added.

Well. That was marginally useful. “Did he indicate what he would say to Eddard?” Stannis asked brusquely.

“Not really, no,” Davos said and shrugged helplessly.

The door to his office burst open. It was Robert. Of course it was.

“Stannis! I’m so proud of you! Your first teenage-mistress-arranged-marriage-merger-rumour scandal!” his brother boomed, treating the matter as if was the world’s finest joke.

“I was just having a beer with Ned, he said I should check in on you. Seemed to think you might be having a bad day. You couldn’t ask for a better father-in-law! Always so concerned about family, Ned is.” Robert came over to clap Stannis on the shoulder repeatedly. Stannis hunched over and leaned away, trying to defend himself. It was useless.

“We’ve planned the whole thing for you! It will be Sansa’s first wedding, so it will be go big or go home. It will have to be the King’s Landing Cathedral for the ceremony at the very least, reception at the King’s Crown Hotel - I know a guy, I can get you a good deal - ” Robert couldn’t keep a straight face to save his life, mirth shining from his eyes and laughter accompanying every other word out of his mouth. “When you’ve signed the wedding certificate, we can wheel out the legal documents for the merger and make it all official on the same day.”

When Robert seemed to have exhausted his well of _hilarious_ jokes, Stannis got up from his chair to shake Robert’s arm off.

“Very droll, Robert. Did you ask Eddard to issue a statement regarding the merger rumour?” Stannis asked, trying to make the best of things now that Robert was here. He could at least find out whether he needed to go talk to Eddard too, or if Robert had actually done his job.

“Why so serious, Stannis? It’s not every day you find out your brother has arranged for such a beautiful bride for you!” Robert chortled happily until he saw the murderous glare Stannis was directing at him. His smile faded a little and he cleared his throat.

“Er, yes - of course I did. Well, Ned offered to do it first thing.” Robert still looked vaguely amused, but he seemed to be making an effort. Stannis turned down the strength of his glare accordingly.

“Good. Now please refrain from referring to Sansa as my teenage mistress or my bride. It’s inappropriate,” he bit out, crossing his arms. For some reason the wedding jokes touched a nerve in a way none of Robert’s jokes had been able to in a long time. Stannis tried to ignore it, but he felt like Robert was poking at an open wound.

“Well, what do you want me to call her?” Robert asked genially, unperturbed by his younger brother’s threatening tone and stance.

“Her name is **Sansa** ,” Stannis hissed caustically, murder glare back in full force, scowl firmly in place.

Robert raised his hands up in a surrendering gesture. “All right, all right.” He shot Davos a look, raising his eyebrows as if to say _’who pissed in his cornflakes?’_ Davos remained expressionless, doing his best to fade into the background and not get dragged into the conversation.

A long tense moment passed. 

Stannis took several deep breaths and counted to ten in his head before speaking, and his efforts yielded a calm, collected tone of voice that he was very proud of. “As CEO you need to sign off on the statement Renly drafted. Have you read it?” 

“I’m sure it’s fine. Just tell me where to sign.” Robert started to pat all of his pockets, searching for a pen.

Stannis looked at the ceiling in exasperation and handed Robert a pen from his desk. Then he found the draft inside the folder that Davos had handed him earlier, scanned the page to make sure it lived up to his exacting standards, and passed Robert the document.

To Robert’s credit, he did read the thing over quickly before signing.

“Anything else I can help you with? Or can I go back to writing my speech for the reception? I missed a golden opportunity the last time you got married -- don’t think I’ll make the same mistake twice! Maybe I should make it a slide show? I’m sure I can dig up some pictures of you in the bath from when we were little squirts...” Robert probably would have rambled on for longer, but Stannis interrupted him.

“You were too drunk to speak at my wedding, and _if_ I ever marry again you will be drunk then too,” Stannis said sharply, heckles raised.

Robert pretended to be offended for a moment, but then he shrugged, looked at Davos again as if to say _’that’s probably true’_ , and laughed loudly.

“If that’s all, I’ll leave you to it. Don’t work too hard, you’re supposed to be on holiday for a few more days, aren’t you?” Robert made for the door, speaking over his shoulder.

“I’m cutting it short. Selyse wants Shireen in France by tomorrow.” Stannis did his best to cover up most of the bitterness, but somehow it always leaked through when it came to Selyse. He took a seat at his desk again.

“That’s a shame. Why France all of a sudden…?” Robert trailed off, confusion turning into realisation. “Selyse saw the pictures?” Robert had turned around to look at Stannis properly, his hand on the door handle.

Stannis leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms belligerently. He nodded once, frowning.

“Cersei was always a jealous bitch, too,” Robert said, perhaps attempting to commiserate. Stannis didn’t really care for it, but he supposed he should appreciate that his brother was trying. He remained silent, staring at the file on his desk, itching to pour over the numbers that Davos had prepared. Robert lingered a few moments longer, hesitating at the door. From the corner of his eye, Stannis could see his older brother shaking his head slightly and then letting himself out.

Shoulders slumping in relief at Robert’s departure, Stannis beckoned for Davos to sit down. They had a lot of work to do.

Roughly an hour went by while the two men ploughed steadily through the mountain of paperwork that needed their attention. Davos started to fidget when the afternoon wore on, glancing at his watch more often than he usually did. It prompted Stannis to note the time too, and he realised that it was getting late.

“I think we’ve taken care of the most important things for today. Go home, I’m just going to wrap up some correspondence,” Stannis said, dismissing Davos. Stannis knew the man had been at the office since very early in the morning. He deserved to go home to his family. 

Thinking of Davos’ family reminded Stannis of a conversation he’d had with Sansa about Davos and Marya. He looked at his friend, wondering if this was the appropriate time to arrange a dinner party. Davos was gathering up his things, preparing to leave. Stannis decided to just ask.

“Davos, would you and Marya like to have dinner with Sansa and me this weekend?” he asked, trying not to sound too hesitant. It felt a little strange to make weekend dinner plans at the heels of everything that had just gone on, but he’d be damned if he let stupid gossip ruin any more of his day. Much less prevent him from making plans he could look forward to.

“I haven’t made any other plans, and I know Marya is very curious to meet Sansa. I am too, for that matter. Saturday?” Davos smiled easily and fished his phone out of his pocket to look at his calendar.

They made tentative plans for dinner at seven at Stannis’ apartment on Saturday, promising to notify each other if Marya or Sansa needed to change the time or date around. That done, Davos saluted cheerfully and headed out the door.

Stannis had only typed a few words of an email when Davos stuck his head back inside. Stannis looked up in surprise. Had he forgot something?

“Melisandre is in one of the meeting rooms with Balon Greyjoy. Do you know anything about this?” Davos sounded rushed, his feathers obviously ruffled.

Stannis raised his eyebrows all the way up to his hairline. “What?” he barked, getting up from his chair in agitation. “Where?” he demanded, striding purposefully out of his office to join Davos. His right-hand man led the way to a meeting room that was a little out of the way. Stannis noticed that most people had already left for the day. This meeting was obviously scheduled this late because it was meant to go unnoticed, but all the meeting rooms had glass partitions, so it was next to impossible to have a completely secret meeting. That was the way Stannis wanted it.

Still, this room was in a less used part of the office complex. Davos must have been heading for the back door instead of the main entrance. Stannis knew he often parked in the street rather than make use of his reserved spot in the parking garage.

“Did they see you when you saw them?” Stannis asked quietly. Davos shook his head. “No, they were bent over some papers.”

Stannis and Davos slowed down when they drew nearer, coming to a halt before going around the corner that would allow them to see the meeting room. They listened. The glass partitioning was not really soundproof, and the normal noise of a busy office was completely absent, allowing sound to carry quite well. Stannis could hear a conversation in progress.

“With Baelish backing me that shouldn’t be a problem. As long as your information is good.” Stannis recognised Greyjoy’s voice right away.

“Oh, my information is good,” Melisandre’s seductively replied. Stannis clenched his hands into angry fists. He always knew there was something off about her. 

Stannis had mostly hired her because Selyse had asked him to, as a favour. They had still been married at the time, and Stannis had felt duty-bound to appease his wife when he could. The two women had met at church and hit it off. Apparently Melisandre had fallen on hard times, despite a law degree from a very respectable University. Selyse had wanted Stannis to help the woman, give her a chance. He would never have considered it if Melisandre hadn’t been qualified, but she _was_. She had proven herself an asset to Dragonstone, so he had kept her around despite his nagging feelings of suspicion.

“I’ll look over the paperwork with my attorney and sign it if everything is in order. You are sure it will be legally binding? The quota and the processing plants in Pyke will be fully under my control?” Balon aggressively demanded, raising his voice.

“Yes, it’s all in the contract. As long as you sign and Baelish pays up like he promised.” Melisandre sounded absolutely confident.

Stannis felt himself go pale. He and Eddard had worked hard to make sure the Greyjoys would no longer monopolise the fishing industry in Pyke. The Greyjoy family still owned most of the trawlers and made a comfortable living, but the numerous fishermen, factory workers and other professionals that kept the fishing industry running were not under Greyjoy’s thumb the way they had been. Stannis and Eddard had made sure of that. If Balon bought the quota and the processing plants back, it would mean misery for a lot of innocent, hard-working people.

Stannis risked a peek around the corner, wanting to see the people he was listening to. He could just barely see them, bent over some papers as Davos had said, Melisandre’s red hair spilling down her back like a river of blood, Balon’s hulking figure looking oddly out of place in the tidy little meeting room. Balon’s steely gaze was fixed on the contract in front of him.

“It can’t be that simple. Won’t Robert Baratheon have to sign too?” Balon asked shrewdly.

“Stannis, actually. He’s the one in charge of the Pyke properties. Let me worry about that. Just make sure you sign, and that Baelish has the funds ready to go,” Melisandre purred.

Stannis felt his shoulders relax slightly. He should have known that Melisandre, despite being a top Baratheon Industries attorney, could not sell property that did not belong to her. She’d need his leave. This would be a simple matter of denying it to her.

Or would it? She must have some plan in mind to extort his signature from him. He tensed up again, imagining the different ways she might try to force his hand. How far would she be willing to go? She had to know that he was not a man who would bend the rules for any reason. If she wanted him to sign the people of Pyke over to the immoral rule of Balon Greyjoy, she’d have to go to drastic lengths.

He would break rather than bend.

Davos grabbed his arm, pulling him back a little. Balon and Melisandre were obviously leaving, their chairs scraping the floor as they got up. The two men stood as quietly as they could, hoping that Melisandre and Balon would walk the other way and exit through the back.

There was a brief, tense moment while someone - most likely Melisandre - turned off the lights and closed the door. When two pairs of feet could be heard walking away from their corner, Stannis and Davos both let out the breaths they had been holding.

They waited for a minute to make sure Balon and Melisandre were really gone and then started to walk back to Stannis’ office.

“What the hell was she thinking having this sort of meeting at the office?” Stannis said, disgusted. He was both disgusted with the fact that she was betraying him, and also at how incompetently she was doing it. “She had to know someone would overhear!” he snapped, feeling irritated and suddenly very very tired.

“Well, there’s no one here except us and the cleaning staff. They don’t speak the language, I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t been helping you, and you were supposed to be on holiday,” Davos said and shrugged.

Stannis ground his teeth together furiously. It was obviously loud enough to make Davos grimace at the sound. He made an effort to unlock his jaw when he noticed.

“What are you going to do?” Davos asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” Stannis sighed, “she must have something up her sleeve if she thinks she can get me to sign Pyke away to that greedy old fishmonger.”

“Can’t you just fire her?” Davos asked, looking cheered by the idea. Davos had never liked Melisandre at all.

“If I try, it might just cause her to use whatever leverage she has to force me to keep her employed on top of signing the papers,” Stannis reasoned, furrowing his brow and thinking hard.

“Watch her,” Stannis eventually commanded, “I will have to wait for her to show her hand. Nothing will happen without my signature. She will have to go after it soon.”

Davos nodded and the two men exchanged serious, burdened looks.

_What a damn mess._


	17. A chat

Sansa wasn’t unpacking. She didn’t feel like doing it right away. Instead she was lying on her bed, looking at the accumulated messages on her phone. Thankfully it was still early enough in the day for her family to be out of the house. Soon they would be returning from their various activities and she wouldn’t have any peace. She might need the excuse of unpacking to get away from them, then.

The most amusing texts were from Margaery. She had been sending links to every crazy theory she could find being posted about Stannis and Sansa, along with her acerbic commentary on the worthless gossip. Reading Margaery’s take on the stories that were floating around helped Sansa see them for what they were. They were stupid garbage articles only worth laughing at. She was grateful to her friend as she was sure that without Margaery’s clever messages she would be feeling very low about it all. 

She had received texts from most of her family members too. Support and love from her parents, amusement and jibes from her siblings. Except Jon. He had just texted to ask if she was all right and hadn’t made fun of her at all.

The hardest part was scrolling through the messages on her social media pages. Her friends, acquaintances, and strangers - all pitching in with their two cents. Judging, congratulating, expressing surprise, begging for more information, calling her names, calling Stannis names… It was overwhelming.

She had respected Stannis’ wish not to publish anything online about their relationship, so no one except her inner circle had really known that she was with him until now. She had been meaning to ask if he minded her updating her relationship status, but had not got around to it.

It seemed a little redundant now.

She wondered if she should send Stannis a message. He had been very quiet in the car on the way back, and Shireen had been sulking about her impending trip to France on and off. Sansa had managed to distract Shireen from her mood a few times, but it had always been waiting to come back when their topic of conversation ran dry.

Once they made it to King’s Landing, Stannis had asked if Sansa would be willing to take a taxi to Winterfell. It would delay him for too long to drive her himself. She hadn’t minded that at all, although she was sad to part from him. He had paid the driver up front and helped her with her bags, but he hadn’t kissed her goodbye. She had a feeling he would be very reluctant to kiss her in public from now on. If there were people taking pictures of them wherever they went, she understood the sentiment completely. The idea of being photographed made her very uncomfortable too.

He’d want to know that she had made it home, right? If he was too busy to talk, he could just reply to the message later.

_Back home, safe and sound. Missing you already. I hope you got the work you wanted to do done. XOXO_

Sansa would really have preferred to speak to Stannis face to face. She wanted to reassure herself that he was not so annoyed with the pictures and the gossip that he wanted to stop seeing her. She was sure that he had only been so quiet because he had been stressed and thinking about work, but a small frightened part of her was sure that he would think that she wasn’t worth the bother now.

She stared at her phone for a while, wondering if Stannis would reply. Then she rolled her eyes at herself for being pathetic and decided to call Margaery to distract herself.

“Sansa! It’s about time you called!” Margaery was so excited and loud that Sansa had to move the phone away from her ear a little. She had to smile at her friend’s enthusiasm, though.

“Sorry, I’ve been on the road. I’m back home now,” Sansa apologised, feeling a little guilty that she hadn’t even returned one of Margaery’s texts. She had been much too self-absorbed to think of it.

“I get it, you’ve got a lot on your mind. What with planning your wedding and all,” Margaery teased, causing Sansa to blush faintly. 

The marriage rumours were the _worst._ At least when the gossips were calling them cradle robbers and gold diggers or whatever, she could just roll her eyes and feel superior because she knew the truth. The rumours about their alleged arranged marriage made her stomach clench, because a tiny part of her thought that marrying Stannis might be sort of interesting, really, and she may have started to design her wedding dress in her head a little. 

The rational part of her brain knew that it was _way_ too early to be thinking about that stuff, but she couldn’t help it. She had been dreaming of her wedding since she was a little girl and it was getting easier every day to picture Stannis as the groom. It was definitely getting easier to picture a wedding night with Stannis. Her blush deepened at the thought.

Anyway, arranged marriages were a popular trope in her romance novels, and she always thought they were kind of sexy. With herself and Stannis in the lead roles as the reluctant bride and groom who were secretly attracted to each other, she could easily imagine herself enjoying the fantasy.

“Yes, ha ha,” Sansa answered, trying to sound sarcastic and unconcerned.

“It seems like you two are getting really close judging by those pictures. He’s looking at you like you make the sun come up in some of them.” Margaery sounded happy for Sansa, but she was obviously angling for her to elaborate.

Sansa was glad for the opening. She was desperate to talk about the past few days and get Margaery’s opinion. 

She told Margaery how she had spent her time in Dorne, skimming over the adult bits because those details were _private._ She just told Margaery that it had been amazing, and that she was really starting to get why everyone was so obsessed with sex.

“... but on the way back to King’s Landing Stannis was so quiet and annoyed, and I’m worried that he might want to split up after all this gossip!” Sansa finished her story, feeling like she needed a drink of water from talking so much. Margaery had stayed mostly silent while she spoke, occasionally asking her to clarify something or making humming noises.

“Of course he was annoyed to have to cut his holiday short to deal with this mess. Probably largely because now you will be sleeping at your parents’ house again, and not in his bed where he wants you.” Margaery made it sound obvious, but Sansa was not entirely convinced.

“Maybe. Do you really think so?”

“Sansa, did you like sleeping in the same bed?” Margaery patiently asked, as if she were talking to a five year old.

Sansa ignored Margaery’s condescending tone and answered enthusiastically. “Yes, it was exciting! Also really romantic, like this morning he woke me up so that he could kiss me before he left for his morning run...” Sansa trailed off dreamily.

“Wow, you’ve definitely got it bad,” Margaery said, sounding amused, “do you really think he enjoyed it any less than you did?”

Sansa hadn’t really thought of it that way. “Probably not,” she giggled a little nervously.

“Believe it. He’s not going to want to break up with you now that you’ve got him looking at you like an addict looks at his next fix.” Margaery made it sound like Sansa had managed some impressive achievement.

Even though it was flattering to hear that Margaery thought Stannis was so attracted to her, she was starting to feel like Margaery didn’t quite understand how serious she was about her relationship with him, and how she hoped he was serious about her too.

“Margaery! You always make it sound like Stannis is only with me for sex. We have a real connection that goes beyond that, you know,” Sansa vented her frustration, trying to get her friend to take her mind out of the gutter.

“Really?” Margaery sounded sceptical.

“Yes! He really opened up to me about something terrible that happened to him in the past. I don’t think he ever talks about it with _anyone,_ but he trusted me with it. You have no idea how special that was.” Sansa spoke passionately, doing her best to convince Margaery.

“Was it about how he witnessed his parents’ death? Because everyone knows about that, Sansa,” Margaery asked, sounding serious but also a little cynical.

Sansa couldn’t speak. She hadn’t known that. Her heart broke all over again for Stannis, and she felt cold all over at the thought of him going from one tragedy to another.

“No. It wasn’t that,” Sansa said softly. Her eyes were filling with tears. “I didn’t know about that. What - what happened?” Sansa’s voice trembled.

“Oh! Sansa I’m so sorry! I thought you knew - I mean, Robert witnessed it too, and he’s best friends with your dad. I’m honestly so sorry, I didn’t mean to spring it on you like that.” Margaery sounded genuinely regretful about her mistake, but Sansa didn’t care about that now. She wanted to know what had happened.

“What happened?” Sansa repeated more firmly.

“I really don’t think it’s my place to tell you. I can give you the facts, but I think you should really talk to Stannis about this.” Margaery sounded uncertain and worried, but she continued speaking. “Apparently there was a really terrible car crash. Steffon and Cassana were driving a classic convertible - you know how Robert is a car buff? He gets that from his dad - and Robert and Stannis were being chauffeured in another car following them. They’re crossing an intersection when some poor soul loses control of their car, runs a red light and drives right into the side of the convertible at full speed. Steffon and Cassana died instantly. So did the driver of the other car. Robert and Stannis saw everything.”

Sansa felt like a ten ton weight had been placed on her chest, it was so hard for her to breathe. She stayed silent for a long moment, just trying to get her bearings.

“I can’t believe I never knew about this!” she finally gasped out, feeling completely lost.

“Yeah, I guess our parents forget that we were just barely born when it happened. They probably think everyone knows about it because it was all over the news for weeks,” Margaery speculated, pausing for a few beats. “He told you about something worse than seeing his parents die?” she added incredulously.

“I don’t know that it’s worse, but it was horrible too,” Sansa said, her voice coming out faint and weak.

“He must have the worst luck in history, then,” Margaery blew out a breath, “maybe getting to date you is the universe trying to give him a break?” She laughed a little, but trailed off into another sigh. “Seriously, you shouldn’t worry about him breaking up with you over some stupid online gossip. He must have known it would happen eventually, and if he’s already exposing his scarred psyche to you and whatnot, then he’s obviously both emotionally and physically into you.” Margaery sounded very convincing.

“Yeah?” Sansa wanted so badly to believe her.

“Yeah. Trust me, he’ll be asking you to spend time with him again really soon.” Margaery said it like she had already seen the future.

“I hope so, I miss him already...” Sansa admitted with a wistful sigh.

“Ugh, people in love are so gross. I’m going to hang up on you now,” Margaery teased, laughter in her voice.

“I’m not gross!” Sansa pretended to be outraged. On the inside she was freaking out because Margaery had used the ‘L’ word, and she hadn’t immediately dismissed it as one of Margaery’s usual exaggerations.

“Bye!” Margaery sang, ignoring Sansa’s feigned outrage. The call ended.

“Bye,” Sansa said quietly to no one, moving her phone away from her ear.

Was it absurd for her to be in love already? Was she in love? She had just been thinking about this a few days ago and hadn’t reached any sort of conclusion except that she’d know when she felt it. Well, she was now relatively sure that she didn’t _not_ feel it. That was progress, right?

She rolled over to lie on her side, feeling emotionally drained and tired from the long car ride. She didn’t mean to, but she accidentally drifted off to sleep.

Her phone went off some time later, waking her up. She had probably slept through a few similar notification sounds, but this one had managed to stir her.

She groped around, finding the device not far from where her hand had been resting. She brought the screen to her face and peered blearily at it.

It was a private message from Petyr Baelish via her most easily found social media profile.

_Saw the photos and the rumours. I’ve been at the centre of cruel gossip - If you want to talk someone on the outside who understands, I’m available. Take care, sweetling._

Sansa stared at the screen in sleepy disbelief for a while, blinking slowly. _What even?_ She shut her eyes tightly and opened them again. The message was still there. Was her future chancellor really hitting on her again? Would it be rude not to answer him?

She sat up and rubbed at her eyes. She had fallen asleep on top of her bedspread still wearing all of her clothes, and felt accordingly rumpled and confused about what time it was. Listening to the sounds of the Stark household, alive with activity, told her that it was probably very late in the afternoon. Glancing at the clock on her phone confirmed this.

Sansa didn’t really want to go downstairs and deal with her family. She felt a little bad about thinking about them in terms of having to be ‘dealt’ with. Most of the time they were just looking out for her, but she just wasn’t in the mood for their questions or for their concern. Still, she had been meaning to talk to her mother about Petyr Baelish. His message could serve as a starting point for such a conversation.

In the end it was hunger that drove her from her room and to the kitchen.

Robb and Jon had joined forces to make Spaghetti Bolognese, letting Arya test whether the spaghetti was done by throwing it at the wall. Sansa wondered if her parents knew about that.

“That smells good,” Sansa said, sitting down at the kitchen table and grabbing an apple to tide her over until dinner was ready.

“Jeyne doesn’t like to cook, so I’ve been learning!” Robb said with a grin. Sansa knew that Robb and Jeyne lived together while they were at school - in a tiny student apartment - but they were still coming home to their parents for summer break. She suddenly felt a wave of sympathy for Robb for having to be parted from his girlfriend for two months. Even if they still saw each other a lot, it wasn’t the same as living together. Though she had only spent a few days with Stannis, she understood now.

“Don’t listen to that clown, I’m the one who found this recipe and I’m the one doing all the work!” Jon brandished a wooden spoon he had been using to stir the meat sauce to emphasise his words, but he was smiling and obviously not being too serious.

“I’m helping too!” Arya declared, throwing another strand of spaghetti at the wall. The floor below was already littered with previously thrown pasta.

“Clearly,” Sansa said sarcastically after swallowing a bite of her apple. “Where are Mum and Dad?”

“Dad went to the grocery store, Mum’s working on the computer,” Robb answered easily.

Sansa was surprised and thankful for how her siblings were leaving the whole gossip thing alone. It was nice to pretend this was just an ordinary summer day. She didn’t want to risk lingering for long enough for one of them to think of bringing it up, however.

“I’m going to go talk to her. When do you think dinner will be ready? I can tell her for you.”

Robb thought it would be about fifteen more minutes, and Sansa nodded. She threw away the apple core and headed for her mother’s office.

The door was ajar, but Sansa knocked lightly anyway to get her mother’s attention. Catelyn looked up from her computer, reading glasses perched low on her nose.

“Sansa, darling!” Her mother looked at her with pleasure at seeing her, but then her look changed to such a deep sympathetic understanding, that Sansa felt her throat constrict slightly in response. She hadn’t really felt like crying about the situation up until now, but there was something about the promise of her mother’s comfort that made her feel like it was okay to show a little weakness.

Catelyn moved to sit on the small couch and held her arms open for Sansa. She moved to accept her mother’s embrace gratefully. There was really nothing quite like being held by her mother. So soft, smelling just like her mother always smelled, of lavender and chamomile, comforting and protective.

Sansa let out a small sob, a few tears escaping.

“It’s okay to be upset about this, Sansa. Your privacy was invaded and they wrote cruel things about a relationship that is new and still fragile. If I could have spared you this, I would have,” her mother soothed.

Sansa knew the stupid blogs weren’t worth her tears, and her mother’s presence was a balm. She allowed herself a bit of a cry and was soon feeling lighter, unburdened and balanced. She sat up and wiped the tears from her eyes with relief.

“Thank you. I really needed that.” Sansa gave her mother a watery smile.

“Of course. Tears can heal the soul.” Catelyn smiled back at her daughter, pushing a lock of her away from her tear-stained face.

“I’m more angry than I am sad, really. Stannis had to get back to King’s Landing to deal with those stupid merger rumours, and Selyse saw the pictures and demanded that he send Shireen to France right away,” Sansa explained, frowning.

“Oh, Selyse has never had normal reactions to anything,” her mother scoffed. “Poor Shireen, she loves those beach holidays with Stannis,” she added regretfully.

“Yes, and it’s not like he can take time off that often. Selyse is basically _always_ on holiday.” Sansa knew she sounded a little bitter, but she didn’t care. Her mother nodded in understanding.

Sansa suddenly remembered why she had wanted to talk to her mother in the first place.

“Mum, what can you tell me about Petyr Baelish?” Sansa asked, knowing that to her mother the question probably sounded really random. “I met him at the benefit I went to with Dad, and he was saying all these things about how he used to go to school with you. Just now he sent me a message too, offering a shoulder to cry on,” Sansa added, explaining her sudden interest in hearing about Baelish.

Her mother looked surprised at first, but by the time Sansa had explained she was rolling her eyes and muttering something that sounded like _”typical”_.

“At the risk of sounding self-absorbed, Petyr Baelish has believed himself to be in love with me since we were school children. I don’t think it’s love he truly feels - infatuation maybe, but not love. He’s not the type of person who understands love. He’s always been controlled by greed and a hunger for power. I was not surprised when he found himself a position as a University chancellor. It would have appealed to his ego.” Her mother sighed deeply, a tired sound.

“I’m trusting you with this because I don’t wish for a repeat of what happened with my sister,” her mother said, looking down at her lap and then meeting Sansa’s eyes fiercely.

“Petyr can be very charming, and I believe he’s obviously trying to charm you like he charmed your Aunt Lysa.” Catelyn paused to take a deep breath, studying Sansa’s face intently. Sansa made sure to put on her most trustworthy expression. She wouldn’t tell anyone about this. 

“Lysa was always rather _delicate_ , mentally. Before she went to therapy she was rather unstable. You wouldn’t have recognised her.”

Sansa knew about Aunt Lysa’s mental condition, but it had never been an issue for as long as Sansa had known her. Except for the occasional dotty gift, Lysa was just a regular sort of aunt. It was strange to hear that she had some sort of past involving Petyr Baelish.

“Petyr seduced her after I rejected him.” Her mother was looking into the middle distance, obviously seeing the past and not the present. “It caused a very long, very difficult episode for her. She truly believed that Petyr loved her, and became full of jealous rage whenever he tried to use his relationship with her to get close to me.” Catelyn shook her head sadly. “She always blamed me, and thought I was the one trying to steal Petyr from her.”

Sansa was outraged and terrible sad on behalf of her aunt at the same time. She had got the sense that Petyr Baelish was a creep when she had met him, but this was over the top.

“It was obvious to everyone except her that Petyr was using her, and eventually our brother managed to convince Petyr to step off. We sent Lysa to therapy after that.” Her mother smiled weakly. “That was the best thing to come out of the whole situation. Lysa finally got the right help and medication to be able to lead a normal life. Before Petyr, her episodes had always been minor enough for the doctors to believe it would get better with age.” Her mother made a face that expressed her disgust at the doctors better than any words could.

“Wow,” Sansa whispered softly, feeling a little overwhelmed.

“Petyr Baelish has grown up since all of that happened and he has become very adept at hiding his true nature. He is very successful, and as I said, he can be very charming. That is why I wanted to tell you all this. Ned told me how he acted around you at the benefit, and if he’s sending you messages…” Catelyn trailed off, worry lines marring her brow. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t buy into any of his crap,” Sansa promised, nodding decisively and smiling confidently at her mother.

Catelyn smiled at her in return. “Good.” She nodded once and clasped her hands around Sansa’s. Then her smile widened. “Now tell me all about your holiday with Stannis. Did he treat you well? Do I have to get you an appointment with Dr. Luwin so you can get a prescription for birth control?”

Sansa blushed. “Mum!” She exclaimed, feeling mortified.

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Sansa. You just have to be responsible.” Catelyn sounded very matter-of-fact, but she was blushing a little too, Sansa noticed. It was probably a little weird for her to talk about this.

“It’s - we’re not - “ Sansa stammered, unsure what to say, cheeks heating up further.

“Even if you two aren’t in need of birth control yet, it might not be a bad idea to start on the pill anyway. I’ll call Dr. Luwin tomorrow.” Catelyn nodded firmly, she had obviously made up her mind.

Sansa was secretly grateful that her mother was thinking of this for her. She had never felt the need to go on the pill since her monthly visitor had never been irregular or very painful, but it was smart to be prepared in case things did progress between her and Stannis. 

Sansa was pretty sure they would.

“Fine, fine. Can we not talk about it anymore?” Sansa hid her face in her hands.

“Of course. I still want to hear about your holiday, though!” Her mother smiled indulgently at her.

Sansa was about to answer her mother when Arya’s voice rang out from the kitchen. “DINNER!”

“I’ll tell you about it over dinner. That way the others can hear too.” Sansa stood up and headed for the door. Her mother stopped her before she reached the handle, and gave her a tight hug.

“I’m so proud of you, Sansa.”

Sansa squeezed her mother tightly in return, feeling overcome with feelings of gratitude. Her parents were alive, unlike poor Steffon and Cassana, and they loved her unconditionally. She had always taken this for granted, but she was suddenly intensely aware of how fortunate she was.

“I love you, Mum,” Sansa mumbled into the hug before letting go. Catelyn stroked her hair lovingly, and then they both headed for the kitchen. Sansa stopped in the bathroom to wash her face on the way, not wanting it to be too noticeable that she had been crying.

Over dinner Sansa did as she had promised, and told her family about her time in Dorne. As her dad was at the dinner table, Sansa was careful not to say anything about how she and Stannis had shared a room while on holiday. Hopefully he would assume that she had shared with Shireen or something. She told her family about the sailing trips, the coconuts, the dolphins, the beach, Shireen’s swimming lessons and her own chess lessons.

“Shireen tried to teach me chess, but I was hopelessly outclassed! Even with Stannis trying to help me,” Sansa laughed.

“I can sometimes beat Shireen, but I’ve never won Stannis,” Arya contributed a little sulkily.

“Stannis has a brilliant mind for tactics,” her father said, nodding. Sansa smiled at him, glad to hear him compliment Stannis.

“I’m fairly sure he’ll have those bizarre merger rumours squared away in no time. I met Robert today to talk about it. We’re going to release statements about the matter tomorrow. Hopefully that will be the end of it,” her father continued as he concentrated on winding spaghetti around his fork.

Sansa was glad to hear that too, though she wished Stannis had been the one to tell her. He still hadn’t replied to her message. She was periodically checking her phone, just in case he answered.

It was hours before she finally received a reply.

She saw it when she was back in her room, having helped clear up after dinner and spent a little time playing with Rickon and Summer. Rickon had been unusually docile, allowing Sansa to cuddle him to her heart’s content. He was getting too big to tolerate it, but he had seemed to sense that she needed some love. Summer had sensed it too, and showed it by licking her face until she laughingly shrieked for him to stop. It had necessitated another trip to the bathroom to wash her face, but Sansa didn’t mind. Then she had unpacked and tried to read economic theory for a while.

The message was brief, but it made Sansa smile from ear to ear.

_Good to hear you made it back. I apologise again for not driving you. It was, however, very fortunate that I made it to the office when I did._  
_Davos and I have made plans for dinner at my apartment on Saturday night at seven o’clock. The idea is for you and Marya to join us, if the timing is convenient for you? If so, I very much look forward to seeing you again._  
_Shireen sends you her regards, she’s flying to France early tomorrow._

_Margaery was right,_ Sansa thought with a smile. _He wants to see me soon._ She hurried to accept the invitation.

_Dad told me you’re going to issue statements and squash those rumours. I hope it all works out._  
_I can’t wait to meet Davos and Marya! Saturday at seven o’clock works just fine._  
_Please give Shireen my love. I’m sure France will be perfectly nice - even if it’s not as nice as Dorne._

Sansa was already planning her outfit in her head, and wondering if she should try to figure out a way to spend the night after dinner. It really would be so much easier than coming all the way back to Winterfell. The idea of spending an entire night, alone with Stannis, in his apartment was almost too exciting to bear. It would be similar to sharing a room at the beach house, but Shireen would be in France, not down the hall. (Not that her presence had stopped them from being noisy in Dorne…)

Sansa knew she was getting ahead of herself, but she really wanted more one-on-one time with Stannis. She remembered how nice it had been to cuddle up with him on the sofa at his place, watching an old movie and just basking in each other. She couldn’t get enough of it.

Maybe if she asked her parents, and promised to sleep in Shireen’s room, or a guest bedroom, they wouldn’t mind a sleepover? Her dad really needed to get over that midnight curfew idea, anyway. She was _eighteen._ Too old to have a curfew. 

Sansa had been pacing around her room restlessly ever since she read the message from Stannis, too excited to relax. She sat down at her desk now, opening her laptop. She wanted to check if Stannis was online.

The dot next to his name was green, so she opened a chat window.

> Hey, are you there?

Three dots appeared below her question, he was typing.

> Yes, I’m glad Saturday works for you. I’ll relate your greeting to Shireen tomorrow. She’s already in bed.

Sansa smiled. She hoped that meant he had time to chat for a bit, she wanted to run her idea by him.

> About Saturday, I’m thinking of asking m&d to let me stay the night at your place after the dinner. What do you think?

The three dots appeared and disappeared a few times. He was obviously unsure how to answer. Sansa held her breath impatiently.

> You may of course stay if it’s all right with your parents.

The three dots appeared and disappeared a few more times. No more writing appeared on her screen, so he must have changed his mind about saying more. It made Sansa intensely curious.

> Did you want to ask me about something?

She typed the question out quickly, even though it was a little pushy. She hoped he didn’t mind. Stannis was the type who needed a little push sometimes, anyway.

> It’s not important.

Obvious Stannis code for _‘I’m too embarrassed to type it out.’_

> Did you want to know why I want to stay over? ;)

Sansa hoped the flirtatious tone would translate. She bit her bottom lip and enjoyed feeling a little wicked.

> Yes.

She giggled, delighted at his response. What should she tell him? Something sexy? Something sweet? She couldn’t make up her mind.

> I like waking up next to you - like this morning.

Sansa thought that was somewhere in between sexy and sweet. She decided to elaborate when he didn’t respond right away.

> I also like going to sleep next to you. It’s very… 

Sansa trailed off on purpose, teasing him a little.

> Satisfying, I hope.

He finished her sentence for her. It made her want to squeal, hide her face with her hands, and make other high-pitched and undignified noises. She took several breaths to get herself under control and started typing.

> Yes, very.  
> I can’t stop thinking about you.

She decided to admit that she had been thinking of him because it was both true, and it would hopefully stroke his ego a little. She was pretty certain that Margaery was right about how much men liked that. Stannis certainly seemed to like it as long as it was genuine.

> It is an adjustment to go from so much contact to so little.

Sansa was amused at his stiff way of phrasing the fact that he missed having her around.

> Such enjoyable contact, too. ;)

She continued to tease him, hoping to bring out something a little less formal.

The three dots were appearing and vanishing repeatedly again. Sansa worried at her lip as she waited, curious to see what he would say.

> Ask your parents. If they say no, come early on Saturday. You can help me cook.

Sansa raised her eyebrows. Stannis was going to cook? Hadn’t Shireen said he was barely any good at it? She thought she remembered something about how he often had food delivered from nearby restaurants.

> You’re going to cook?

Sansa received the quickest response yet to her question.

> No.

Sansa understood. If she was not allowed to stay the night, she could come early and they could enjoy some _’contact’_ in the afternoon before the guests arrived.

> You are surprisingly devious! (I love it!)

Sansa hesitated a little before pressing send, thinking whether she should replace ‘love’ with ‘like’, but decided it sounded better with ‘love’.

> Do you have any favourite dishes we should consider?

Sansa wondered if he was changing the subject or speaking in innuendo. She suspected the latter, but couldn’t be sure.

> Do you still have any Belgian chocolate?

She played it safe, referring to something edible but also hinting at a rather heated make-out session.

> I could get you anything you wanted.

Sansa was starting to feel a little turned on and she shifted around in her seat wondering what she should say.

> _Anything?_ Such as?

She decided to put some pressure on him to say something concrete.

The three dots started to appear and vanish again, and almost a minute went by without any new words appearing on her screen.

> You seemed to like my neck. I still have a mark. You could have anything below or above it.

Sansa sucked in a surprised breath. Was he really going there? She shifted around some more, trying to get some friction from the inseam of her jeans.

> What if I left more marks?

She asked the question feeling too shy to make a bolder statement.

> You’d have to let me leave marks in return.

Sansa made a sound similar to a child’s squeaky toy being stepped on. She clasped a hand over her mouth to prevent more from escaping.

> That’s fair. Where would you most want me to do what I did with your neck?

Sansa had started typing _’Where would you most want me to put my mouth’_ , but it had just sounded too naughty. She couldn’t make herself send it.

> I’ll tell you the location that is in second place. Will that suffice?

Sansa blushed, drawing the correct conclusion about where he most wanted her tongue to lathe his skin. The idea of exploring his cock with her tongue had entered her mind a few times, but it seemed so _advanced._ Remembering the size and shape of it, she also wondered if she’d be able to fit very much of it in her mouth. She really doubted it.

> Yes, I think I know the first place. Tell me the second.

Her face was warm as she typed. When his reply appeared her eyes widened a little.

> The skin just above my hip bone.

He hadn’t had to think about it long, his response was almost immediate. The skin above his hip bone was quite close by the first place. Maybe that wasn’t a coincidence. She wondered where he’d choose to put his mouth on her. Should she ask? Did she dare?

> If I asked you to return the favour, which location would you choose on me?

It took her a few attempts to get the phrasing right, but she liked what she ended up sending. His response was not quite as fast as before, and she was treated to some more dots flashing on her screen before words appeared.

> Aside from the obvious first choice? The inside of your thigh. Around where the lace of your stockings rest when you wear them.

Sansa shuddered pleasurably at his words, imagining him using his tongue and his teeth to lick and graze the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, maybe even sucking on it a little and leaving a mark. She couldn’t stand it. She clamped her hand between her thighs and pressed it tightly against herself, rubbing against it to create some friction. The worst of her need satiated, she returned to typing.

> Do you like it when I wear stockings?

Sansa typed the question feeling a little coy. Stannis responded immediately.

> Yes.

She smiled. He must really like them for them to inspire such an unequivocal response.

> I’ll wear them on Saturday. Any other requests?

She wondered if he’d actually ask for anything specific. Remembering stockings was one thing, but she wasn’t entirely sure men generally remembered outfits that well. This was Stannis, though. He noticed things.

> The black dress. You wore it when we went to the Japanese place.

Sansa was surprised. She would have thought he would pick the red dress with the va-va-voom cleavage that he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off. Perhaps he thought it would be too distracting? She loved her black dress, though. Wearing it would be no hardship. It went well with her best set of underwear, too. Still, she was curious.

> Why that dress?

Stannis took a while to answer. Perhaps it meant he had a lot to say on the subject?

> Black suits you. The contrast against your skin and your hair is arresting.

Sansa had hoped he would say more. Or at least something along the lines of how much he wanted to take it off her. If she were Margaery she would say something like _’You think it looks nice on me? Wait until you see it on your bedroom floor.’_ She wasn’t Margaery, though.

> I have a few other black dresses.

She hoped her statement would prompt him to tell her why he liked the one he was referring to in particular. She suspected he didn’t just like it for the colour.

> Bring them too, if you like.

Sansa blushed, imagining herself trying on her different black dresses in front of Stannis. Was that what he was thinking too?

> Do you want me to model them for you? Then you could choose your favourite.

She bit the tip of her thumbnail, nervous about what he would say.

> I would not object to that.

Sansa smiled, understanding that he was being positively effusive, for him.

> I might need help with zippers and clasps and things.

His reply came quickly.

> I would be happy to assist you.

She had been hoping he would say that.

> You don’t think you would get distracted? It’s a serious job, being dress assistant.

This time it took him a while to answer. Sansa could hardly believe she was having this conversation with him. She would have thought this kind of thing would be too scandalous for him, but she supposed they had mostly stayed in relatively innocent territory.

> I would take the job very seriously. I’m afraid I would have to take my time, however, as I am out of practise as a dress assistant.

Sansa’s toes curled as she imagined him zipping her up agonisingly slowly, his fingers trailing across the skin of her back before the zipper closed the dress and hid it away. Of course he would be kissing her neck as he did this, because she would be holding her hair up, exposing the skin of her neck to him, so none of it would get caught in the zipper.

She was so distracted by her fantasy that she completely forgot to reply to Stannis for a few minutes. When she remembered that it was her turn to say something, she rushed to the keyboard.

> I wouldn’t mind if you took your time.

She couldn’t think of anything better to say quickly.

> Speaking of time, it’s late. I’m taking Shireen to the airport early tomorrow. I should go to sleep.

Sansa cursed softly under her breath even though it was not a ladylike thing to do.

> Of course. I’ll let you know as soon as I find out whether I’ll be staying the night on Saturday or helping you “cook”. Unless you would like me to do both if I can?

She was happy that she had thought of the possibility of doing both. Their chat had given her ideas for a lot of things she wanted to try. Better to have more time together than less.

> Extra help in the kitchen is always appreciated.

Sansa laughed. He really was not that bad at flirting.

> Gotcha. ;)  
> Good night, Stannis.  
…  
> Good night, Sansa. Sleep well.

The green dot next to his name turned red. He had logged off.

Sansa wondered whether she should have spent the more time telling him about Petyr Baelish, or asking him about his parents, and less time flirting. She really wanted to talk to him about those things, after all. It just didn’t really seem appropriate to talk about it online. Flirting was also a lot more fun, and she had needed something lighthearted after the day she’d had. She suspected the same was true for Stannis.

Sansa decided to go to bed. It had been a long day and she was tired, but by the time she was done with her bedtime routine and under the covers, she felt strangely restless and unable to find a comfortable position to lie in. Her body was still faintly thrumming with arousal and a strong desire for the warmth of another person. Three nights of sharing a bed with Stannis had spoiled her.

Her mind wandered, thinking about the things her mother had told her about Petyr Baelish and Aunt Lysa, the sad story of Steffon and Cassana’s death, the conversation she had just had with Stannis, and the strange rumours about herself and him. Her thoughts only stopped jumping from subject to subject when she remembered her idea of a fantasy involving an arranged marriage.

 _What would it have been like if she had been alive back when arranged marriages were actually common?_ She wondered, feeling a little thrill. Perhaps her father would have been a wealthy land owner, and perhaps Stannis would have needed to marry the daughter of a man with plenty of land, because Robert would have inherited all of the Baratheon property, being the eldest? Stannis would have provided the family name, being a highborn gentleman, while Sansa’s dowry would have provided the land they needed to have a suitable income. A perfect match.

Of course, Sansa would have been intimidated by Stannis at first, and desperately worried about the wedding night. Stannis would have misunderstood her apprehension, believed her to be indifferent to him, and then he would have become filled with self-loathing at having to inflict himself on her. She would of course secretly admire him quite a bit, and he would be _overwhelmingly_ attracted to her. So much that he couldn’t bring himself to break the arrangement because he wanted her so desperately.

Sansa had moved a pillow between her thighs and was moving against it to create the friction she needed. It was frustrating, though. Now that she had _done things_ with Stannis, the pillow just didn’t really feel as good as it used to and she wasn’t sure if she could do the things he had done with his hands herself...

The wedding ceremony would have been concluded with a kiss - restrained but hinting at passion. It would have confused her terribly. Was Stannis perhaps not as cold towards her as he pretended to be? Perhaps he was not so intimidating after all? It would have given her the strength she needed to meet him bravely in their bedchamber after the wedding feast.

Expecting him to take her no matter what she did, she would have been surprised when he offered to wait as long as it took until she was ready. She would have said that they had a duty to consummate the marriage, and undressed provocatively. It would have driven him wild with lust. Seeing that side of him would have made her weak at the knees, and he would have had to carry her to the bed. Then he would have confessed his undying love for her and ravished her passionately.

Sansa peaked with a small muffled cry as she imagined how he would use his hands and tongue on her, finally entering her the way he had described to her last night - filling her completely.

After she came down from her high, feeling hot and tingly all over, she kicked all the covers off and pushed the pillow from between her thighs away. She felt too warm for covers, flushed as she was and covered in a sheen of perspiration. This had been a much more shallow orgasm than the ones she had been experiencing for the past few nights, but it took the edge off.

She wondered if Stannis ever had fantasies liked the one she had just indulged in. Maybe she should ask him? The idea of him sharing a fantasy with her was incredibly alluring, but she blanched when she considered that he might want her to share one of hers in return. He’d think her fantasies were silly, probably.

Now that her body’s needs had been met, it started to feel heavy with sleep. Her last thoughts before her mind quieted down were idle speculations about what Stannis might think about while he chased his pleasure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked the chat at the end you should definitely read [ShipMaester's](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ShipMaester/pseuds/ShipMaester) fic [Just a Little Chat](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4153644). Lots of yummy chat conversations. ;)


	18. A shower

In the end it was decided that Sansa would be allowed to come early on Saturday to help Stannis ‘prepare for the dinner party’, but that she would not be allowed to stay the night. However, Sansa told him that Eddard had extended her curfew to two AM after a bit of negotiation. Stannis was not surprised that Eddard had denied Sansa’s request to stay the night. He was relatively sure the man was not ready for his daughter to be in _that kind of relationship_. Stannis tried not to think about what Eddard might or might not be ready for. What mattered was Sansa, and what _she_ was ready for.

Stannis went over the preparations one more time in his head. He had made sure to confirm his delivery order with the restaurant, he had picked up the red wine that he and Davos liked - and a bottle of white in case that was what the women would prefer - the cleaning lady had made sure the apartment was spotless, and he had decided which tie to wear.

He still wasn’t quite sure he should be serving wine. He did not partake very often, but when he did, it was often in the company of Davos and Marya. He could trust them not to overindulge the way Robert always did. Stannis thought that lingering over a glass of red after a good meal, while enjoying the company of people he cared about, was a singular pleasure. It was just that Sansa would be there, and he wasn’t sure he wanted her to see him drinking. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see _her_ drinking.

Stannis started pacing around his living room, periodically stopping to look at the nearest clock.

It was not as if he thought either of them would get drunk off one or two glasses of wine. He was just being absurd.

He stopped pacing when his phone went off, making the sound it always made when he received a text. Not that many people texted him. It was most likely Sansa.

_Margaery is dropping me off, she’s asking if she can come upstairs for a bit when we get there? I think she’s just curious to see the apartment. You don’t have to say yes, but it will save me a headache._

Stannis had never really spoken properly to Margaery Tyrell. Whenever she was close enough for him to potentially interact with, Renly was invariably around too, and the girl seemed to have a rapport with him. It was most likely due to Renly’s relationship with her brother. Stannis didn’t think he’d said anything more than the occasional polite word to her.

It might be a little awkward, but Stannis did not see the harm in letting Sansa’s friend come upstairs with her for a few minutes. It was the civilised thing to do, anyway. Miss Tyrell was driving Sansa a long way, she should at least be offered a refreshment and a chance to stretch her legs.

_She may come upstairs for a short visit. ETA?_

Sansa had planned to arrive at around three in the afternoon, it was now a quarter to.

_Be there in 10, see you soon!_

Stannis called the doorman to let him know that he was expecting company. Sansa was on his approved visitor list, of course, but he wanted to make sure she didn’t run into any trouble since she was not alone. That done, he started pacing again.

He tried not to think about the chat conversation with Sansa from a few days ago, but he couldn’t help but wonder if she would be bringing a selection of black dresses with her. The idea of helping her into them, and then possibly out of them, had his mouth drying up and his fingertips itching.

He really needed to think about something else. It wouldn’t do for him to come off as a brainless oaf in front of the Tyrell girl. He knew her family and he was sure she wouldn’t miss a trick. He’d need to focus on giving a good impression. He suspected it would not take long for the news to travel to Olenna Tyrell if he appeared to be losing his edge.

There was a soft knock on the door, and Stannis took a deep breath before letting Sansa and a sharp-eyed Margaery Tyrell into his apartment. Sansa beamed at him, and he momentarily forgot his resolve to appear his usual stiff and forbidding self. The corners of his mouth turned up in response to the sight of Sansa’s mesmerising smile, and he greedily drank in every detail of her face, her hair, her neck, and - very quickly - the rest of her casually clad form. He was acting as if it had been weeks since he saw her, not mere days.

He was so caught up in looking at her, that he only heard the tail end of her greeting.

“ - and thank you for letting Margaery visit.” Sansa gestured at her friend without looking at her, attention focused solely on him.

Feeling a little like he was being dragged from a dream and back to an unpleasant reality, Stannis reluctantly shifted his gaze to take in the appearance of the Tyrell girl.

An attractive brunette with warm, honey coloured eyes that did not quite mask the calculating mind behind them. A graceful figure, and an amused smile. Had she approached him at an event, he would have been very suspicious of her motives.

“Would you like something to eat or drink?” he asked, skipping over most of the pleasantries.

“Just some water would be great, thanks!” She sounded flawlessly genuine, cheerful, _nice._ What did she want? Stannis looked at her intently and tried to figure her out.

“I’m just going to go put my stuff away, I’ll be back in a minute,” Sansa said, walking off with a dainty suitcase on wheels. Why did she have so much luggage? Hadn’t he understood correctly that she was not allowed to stay the night?

“Sansa doesn’t pack light, does she?” Margaery commented when Sansa was out of earshot, correctly guessing at his thoughts.

Stannis walked to the kitchen and she followed. “It would seem not,” he absently replied, fetching a glass for her and searching his fridge for a bottle of still water. “Ice?”

Margaery shook her head and accepted the glass of water he handed her. He did not mind tap water himself, but it took a while to get cold.

It was strange and awkward to be alone with Margaery, he had no idea what to say to her. Luckily, she seemed to have a subject of conversation picked out already.

“I don’t know if Sansa has told you already, but I accidentally told her about your parents dying and how you and Robert witnessed it,” she quickly said, not looking particularly concerned or ashamed by her admission, “I thought she already knew about it, so I just mentioned it in passing - as you do - but she had no idea!” She widened her eyes theatrically, and Stannis found it difficult to tell whether there were any real feelings behind her expression. Was she trying to indicate that he had been neglectful not to tell Sansa?

“I confess, I had imagined that her father must have told her about it at some point,” Stannis said, defending himself from the imagined accusation.

“Yeah, well, you should probably talk to her about it. I only gave her the bare bones of the story.” Margaery sipped at her water and studied him with her calculating gaze.

“Perhaps,” Stannis said, crossing his arms and meeting her gaze with his habitual scowl.

Margaery turned her head like a doe, investigating a noise from the direction Sansa had gone. Then she looked back at Stannis, and he could practically see a mischievous idea being born, deemed irresistible, and put into action.

“Oh, and just so you know - if you want to speed things along - she’ll give up _all_ the goods if you can convince her that you’re in love with her,” she gave him a wicked grin. “Judging by the way you looked at her just now, that shouldn’t be too difficult for you.”

Stannis stared at her in shock, unable to think of a reply, feeling suddenly flushed and off kilter. He had no time to recover before Sansa breezed into the kitchen, so he bought himself a small reprieve by opening the fridge and pretending to look for something.

“Sorry I took so long, there was an issue with a torn dry cleaning bag. Lint, you know,” Sansa explained vaguely. “What did I miss?” She directed the question at Margaery since he had his back to the pair of them.

“Stannis was just giving me some water. All that driving was thirsty work!” Margaery cheerfully explained, leaving out the part where she presumptuously thought to give him advice on how to _‘get Sansa’s goods._ ’ His shock was giving way to anger, but he couldn’t show it with Sansa standing right there. He did not want to explain why he was angry. He would have to tone it down from a look of fury to something a little more expected.

He closed the fridge empty handed, and turned to scowl at Margaery. She seemed amused. _Intolerable._ She should be intimidated, not amused. He glared at her pointedly.

Sensing danger, even though she still looked amused, Margaery drained the last of her water and declared that she was fit to get back on the road.

“Thank you for the water, Stannis. Your apartment is lovely, though it could really do with a woman’s touch.” She winked at Sansa, turning to leave. “I’ll see myself out, don’t worry about me!” she sang, already half way to the door.

“Bye, Margaery! Thanks for the ride!” Sansa laughed, obviously used to her friend’s erratic behaviour.

Stannis heard the front door open and shut. They were alone.

“That was weird. I thought she would at least demand a tour of the place,” Sansa said, shooting him a curious look. She immediately seemed to notice that all was not well. “Stannis, are you all right?” There was a note of concern in her tone, and she unconsciously moved herself closer to him.

Stannis attempted to relax his face, but he was still so furious that he did not think he was very successful.

“It’s nothing,” he bit out. Then he tried taking a deep breath and counting down from ten -- even though that usually never worked.

Sansa watched him for a moment, and then realisation seemed to dawn on her. He could see how understanding turned to a look of exasperated irritation. “What did Margaery say to you?”

Stannis felt trapped. He didn’t want to lie to Sansa, but neither did he want to explain that her friend had been trying to give him inappropriate advice. He opened his mouth to speak, hesitated, and then started talking without really knowing what he was going to say before the words came out. “Margaery was just informing me that she told you how my parents died.”

Stannis felt relieved to have thought of saying this. It wasn’t a lie, and it would satisfy Sansa’s curiosity. Then he realised that now he’d be obliged to discuss his parents’ death with her, and his stomach tied itself into knots. He really didn’t like talking about it, and he had been hoping for an afternoon of doing something much more pleasant than discuss past horrors. 

Well, there was nothing for it. He steeled himself for the coming conversation, feeling tired and annoyed with Margaery for getting him into this situation.

“Oh.” Sansa didn’t quite sound surprised as much as resigned and regretful. “I’m sorry, Stannis. I shouldn’t have made her tell me. I should have respected your privacy.” 

Stannis almost snorted at that. His parents’ death was the least private thing that had ever happened to him. He wasn’t upset that she knew what had happened. He was actually rather glad that it hadn’t been him who had been tasked with giving her the facts.

“It happened a long time ago, and it was hardly a secret.” He sighed deeply and walked over the sofa where he and Sansa had watched a tragic, wartime love story on the night of her graduation.

They sat down, and Stannis liked how easily Sansa molded herself against him, resting her head on his chest and urging him to wrap his arms around her. She always seemed to want him to hold her. This was very lucky for him, for he quite liked it when she tugged at his arms and pressed herself against him - all softness and warmth. He had never thought of himself as a very tactile person. He usually felt awkward about hugging even his daughter, though he always welcomed Shireen’s embraces. 

Sansa just made it easy for him, somehow.

“I can’t imagine what it would have been like to lose your parents so young,” Sansa said sadly, stroking him where she could reach. Just an innocent, comforting touch, but Stannis enjoyed it more than he probably should.

“I don’t recommend the experience,” he said wearily.

“We don’t have to talk about it, I don’t think I would want to if it was me.” Sansa’s tone was full of understanding, and her words were exactly what Stannis had most wanted to hear. Now that she had made the offer to let him keep silent, however, he suddenly wanted to tell her everything.

“It happened so quickly,” he muttered, still able to recall the day in vivid detail.

“I didn’t see it as much as I heard it. It was a deafening crash, much louder than I had ever expected such a collision to sound.” He paused, swallowing a few times before he continued. “Our driver was quick to respond, otherwise we might have driven right into the wreck.”

Sansa squeezed his arm gently at that, a worried little sound escaping her. Stannis tightened his hold on her in return.

“I remember Robert holding me back. I wanted to go and see if we could save our parents, but it would have been futile and dangerous -- you would understand if you saw pictures from the scene. He was right to prevent me from going near, but I hated him for it.”

Stannis knew that he would not really have benefited from going any closer to the wreck than he had, but he still resented Robert a little for holding him back.

“I never saw them again. Robert did, I think. He had to make all the decisions regarding the funeral arrangements. He never said, but I assume there was not much left of them to see.”

Stannis fell silent for a while, wondering if he should say anything else. He had been forced to see a therapist a few times after the crash to _’deal with the trauma’_. It had felt like a pointless, stupid thing to do at the time. His parents were dead, talking about his feelings wouldn’t bring them back.

Then of course Robert had shipped him off to military school, and he had simply buried the feelings and focused on assimilating to the strict routines of his new life. It had been a relief in a way, to have all that structure. Davos had helped, too. They kept each other company and had each other’s back. Just as they had ever since.

“If I lost my parents like that I don’t think I’d ever get over it,” Sansa whispered.

Stannis moved his hand up to stroke her hair. “It’s in the past. There is nothing that can be done to change it.” His voice was steady and he did not feel the knots in his stomach any longer.

It was as if he was somehow lighter for having talked to Sansa about his memories of the crash. He never mentioned anything about that day if he could help it, and most people had no reason to bring it up. 

“I know you can’t change the past. I’m just impressed, I guess. I’m not sure I could have dealt with everything you’ve had to,” Sansa explained, raising her head from his chest so that she could look at him.

Stannis felt himself become a little flustered at the admiration and sympathy in her eyes, and he didn’t know what to say. She saved him from having to attempt a tongue-tied reply by kissing him. A soft, sweet, lingering kiss. It warmed him and comforted, and Stannis could not recall ever having felt more at peace with the memories of his parents’ death.

He watched her intently after their kiss broke and she moved her head back. Her clear blue eyes opened slowly, eyelashes fluttering. There was a faint pink blush staining her cheeks, and her lips - he could still taste them - were slightly parted. 

How was it possible for her to be this beautiful?

Margaery’s words echoed in his head. _‘... convince her that you’re in love with her. Judging by the way you looked at her just now, that shouldn’t be too difficult for you.’_ His heart sped up and he seriously considered whether her so-called advice hadn’t been a thinly veiled excuse to prod him into realising where his feelings were certainly headed - if they weren’t there already.

“Don’t underestimate yourself,” he murmured, wanting her to know that she was strong too. Her life had not been as difficult as his, but she had still come through an abusive relationship with her kind heart intact - not a trace of bitterness in her soul. That denoted a lot of inner strength.

She blushed more deeply and ducked her head, but he could tell that she was smiling. The sight of it made him so disproportionately pleased, that he was forced to admit to himself that his feelings had definitely got away from him.

Nervous perspiration sprang up on his neck and in his palms, and he tried to subtly rub his free hand on his trousers to keep it from becoming too clammy. His other hand would have to wait, it was still wrapped around Sansa, and he did not want to let go. Sansa did not seem to notice his discomfort. She had gone back to resting her cheek against his chest, fingers tracing idle patterns around the buttons of his shirt.

Was he in love? He did not feel like he had felt about Selyse, but perhaps that was not a standard he should be measuring against. He had thought his feelings for Selyse had been love at the time, but they had faded to irritated tolerance within a few years. The only positive feelings he had left for Selyse had to do with the fact that she was Shireen’s mother.

If he was in love, he was in trouble. It would have been painful enough to let Sansa go without such complicated feelings entering the picture. He was convinced that he would eventually have to let her go. It was impossible to think that she might love him. She obviously enjoyed his company, and she was very affectionate towards him, but this had to be a temporary dalliance in her eyes. He ought to have put a stop to it long before now. Where was his renowned strength? His resolve? His unyielding will? 

All ignored in the face of her flattering attention, her gentle understanding, her willing kisses, her warm body…

Stannis wasn’t sure whether he was wallowing in self-loathing or allowing himself to sink into a lustful daze. The thought of her warm body and some of the things he had done with it, while said body was actually in his arms, was causing the less intelligent parts of his anatomy to stir, and he wanted to groan in annoyance.

He shifted uncomfortably and Sansa moved with him, her head ending up closer to the centre of his chest.

“I can hear your heart,” she said softly. “It’s beating very fast.”

Stannis cleared his throat and made a noncommittal sound. He didn’t know what to say. _’Yes, it’s because I’m thinking of how you once let me put your calves on my shoulders as I pumped three fingers in and out of you and told you how I wanted them to be my cock instead.’_ That would go over well.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked when he didn’t say anything else.

Stannis grimaced. Why did women always ask that question? Selyse had asked it frequently at the start of their relationship. He had learnt that she generally wanted the answer to be that he had been thinking of her, and she became annoyed when it wasn’t. It was not in his nature to lie to appease her, so eventually she stopped asking.

“I’m not sure I should tell you,” Stannis hedged, not wanting to reveal his explicit thoughts, but not wanting to lie and make something up either.

“Why not?” she predictably asked, her curiosity piqued.

Stannis should have known she would ask. Now he was stuck. He’d have to vaguely explain what he had been thinking, or make something up. He refused to lie, even if it caused him embarrassment.

He took a deep breath, feeling his face warm at what he was about to say. “I was recalling our last night at the beach house.”

“Why shouldn’t you tell me that?” she asked, sounding amused.

Stannis had no answer for her. Because it seemed inappropriate? Because he shouldn’t have been thinking about it in the first place? He had been trying to convince himself that he should let her go before he lost his mind and took her to a deserted island and kept her there as his prisoner. How had he ended up with his mind in the gutter?

He lost track of his train of thought when he felt Sansa’s hand trail from her place at his shirt buttons, down to cup his erection through the material of his trousers.

“I don’t know,” he choked out, shutting his eyes and moaning in pleasure when she started to stroke him.

“Well, I think you should _definitely_ tell me when you think about interesting things like that.” Sansa moved her head up so that she could whisper in his ear. Then she started to kiss the shell of his ear, nipping at his earlobe playfully. Paired with her words, and the fondling going on below his belt, it caused an unexpectedly intense wave pleasure to wash over him, and he shuddered at the sensation.

Then she stopped. Why did she stop?

“We mustn’t get too distracted! You still haven’t helped me pick out a dress, and I’ll need at least an hour to get ready before dinner.” Sansa got up from the sofa in one smooth, swift movement. Stannis had half a mind to use the arm that had been cradling her to prevent her escape, but he didn’t. He glanced at the time and saw that it was still several hours until they could expect company. A low growl escaped him, and he scowled at her desertion. 

She looked wickedly delighted by his frustrated scowl, and happily traipsed towards his bedroom. The look she threw over her shoulder at him had him following her faster than any commanding word could have.

Once in his bedroom, he noticed that there were three dresses draped across his bedspread, they were all black, and all quite little. He swallowed thickly. Was she really going to try them on in front of him?

Sansa watched him stare at the dresses. “You can’t possibly judge them when they’re just lying there. I’ll have to put them on.” She crossed her arms over her front, grabbing the edges of her plain, navy T-shirt, and swiftly pulled it over her head. Stannis forgot to breathe for a second while he took in the intricate bra she had on. It was black, with golden brocade details. More interestingly, it was hugging her breasts snugly and pushing them up as if offering them to him. It was a _very_ tempting view.

He tried to tear his eyes away, dragging them up to her face, but then she wiggled out of her jeans, and he just had to see what sort of effect that would have on her cleavage. (A fascinating effect.)

His eyes dropped to take in the new territory that had been revealed, once she had finished shimmying out of her jeans. Her underwear matched her bra, and as she had promised during their chat, she was wearing thigh-high lace stockings. Had he really told her that he wanted to kiss the inside of her thigh, just where the lace was resting? Would she let him?

He was standing next to the bed, staring at her without moving a muscle, and trying to remember to breathe, when she suddenly walked right by him - brushing lightly against him - and chose a dress from the bed.

Turning her back to him, she stepped into the dress and pulled it up around her. To do so, she was required to bend over a little, and Stannis had to bite his tongue to keep from making an embarrassing sound at the sight. Then she looked at him over her shoulder and flirtatiously asked him to zip her up. 

Zipping her up was the last thing he wanted to do. He wanted to throw all of the dresses from the balcony, call Davos to cancel the dinner, and lock himself in with her for the rest of the evening.

He would have to control that particular impulse.

Gritting his teeth, he reached for the zipper and starting pulling it up. As soon as the dress was secure in his hands, she moved to sweep her hair out of the way, twisting it around a finger to make a hasty coil that she could easily hold in place. He zipped her up slowly, careful not to pinch her with it, and allowed himself to brush the skin above the zipper with his thumb before it disappeared behind the fabric. When he went over the fastening of her bra, he made a mental note of how many hooks there were on the clasp. Just in case. (There were two.)

“Mm, you’re very good at this,” she breathed, shivering a little in response to his hands at her back. He could see her skin prickling with gooseflesh, and felt oddly proud to have garnered this response with such a simple touch. “Dress assistant of the year,” she praised, turning around to smile at him when he finally finished closing the dress.

The corners of his mouth twitched at her words, but he soon forgot his amusement in favour of looking at her. The dress had a modest neckline, revealing not even a hint of cleavage. It was very short, however. He was sure that if she sat down, the lace of her stockings would be revealed. If she bent over, he would barely have to lift her skirt in order to get to her underwear. Stannis bit his tongue again. Not hard enough to cause any damage - he just needed a little twinge of pain to keep him tethered to the here and now.

“Wait, I have to put the shoes on! Then you can tell me what you think.” Sansa went over the corner of the room where she had left the little suitcase she had brought. Then she - _seven hells_ \- bent over to fetch her shoes from inside. A strangled sound emerged from his throat without his permission.

His trousers had become unbearably tight, and he longed to do something about it, but Sansa seemed to have her heart set on showing him her dresses, and he wanted to humour her.

“So, what do you think?” Sansa asked, turning around in a circle, legs seeming impossibly long now that she was in her high heels.

Stannis cleared his throat and ran his hand through his hair distractedly. He thought of and discarded several things to say about the dress. “A bit short for company, perhaps?” he offered faintly.

“Yes, that’s what I thought too. I’d have to take my stockings off to wear it,” she said and walked right up to him again, lifting her hair and turning to present him with the zipper. Taking the dress off was a lot more satisfying than putting it on, but it was a brief reprieve. Sansa had the second dress around her in a flash, and he was to do it up for her.

So the same agonising process began again, but now the fastenings were more complicated. There was a zipper and a row of tiny, fiddly buttons. When it was time to take it off again (too sheer for company, she’d need different underwear) he wanted to tear the infuriating things off. He liked the idea of buttons flying everywhere and bouncing off the walls.

The third dress was the one she’d worn to the Japanese restaurant. She looked perfect it in. Seeing her wear it again also reminded him of how much he had wanted to take it off of her in the garden after their dinner. _Gods, had she been wearing the same underwear then?_ His cock jumped at the thought.

“I think you were right to suggest this one, it’s perfect for tonight,” Sansa remarked, smoothing the fabric down over her thighs.

“Yes. Perfect,” he said, his voice hoarse. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. The pressure of his erection was becoming impossible to ignore for much longer. He’d have to excuse himself and take care of it…

“Could you take it off?” she innocently asked, looking at him with wide blue eyes, “I don’t want it to get wrinkled while I do my hair and my make-up.”

Yes, he could take it off. Not so that she could do her hair and her make-up, though. He wanted to touch her. He wanted to take a much closer look at her lingerie, he wanted to put his mouth on the inside of her thigh and drink in the scent of her skin. She had to know how much he wanted this. She _had to._

His hands had become clumsy with arousal, and it took him a maddening amount of time to get the dress off. When it was off, she frustratingly walked out of his reach, going around the room, putting her two unsuitable dresses away, and hanging the third one to keep it pristine. He couldn’t believe this was happening to him. Gorgeous women did not walk around his bedroom in hardly anything at all. He could not remember ever feeling so nervous and aroused - at the same time - in his life.

She, however, was acting as if she never done anything else but strut around in expensive lingerie and heels. As if it were the most normal thing in the world. It didn’t make any sense, he thought. Where were the blushes and the shyness? He couldn’t believe she was suddenly a practised seductress, so he observed her face more closely. That was when he noticed the nervous, furtive looks she occasionally shot at him. It made him feel a little better to see them. She was putting on a brave front, but she was still a little unsure. He wasn’t alone in feeling that way.

He saw her shyness clearly when she walked up to him after having put everything away to her satisfaction. It was easy to see it when she stood in front of him, meeting his eyes and looking excited and uncertain, biting her lower lip.

“Are you going to fix your hair now?” he asked, his voice coming out low and hoarse. He watched her intently, searching her eyes while he waited for her response. What he saw there made him want to cry in relief. She obviously had no intention of fixing herself up for dinner quite yet.

Shaking her head slowly, she sank down onto his bed, moved to the middle of it, and lay back. She maintained eye contact the whole time, still with that mixture of excitement and uncertainty. He followed, wanting to crawl on top of her, but settled for lying next to her.

“Thank you for helping me,” she whispered, reaching to stroke his cheek. He was glad that he had shaved that morning, so that his face would be smooth for her.

“My pleasure,” he rasped, thinking that though it had been a torturous kind of pleasure, he wouldn’t have given it up for the world.

She smiled at him and made a playful humming noise. “Hm, now where were we?” 

Then she was touching him again, exactly where he wanted her to, and it was sweet relief. He threw his head back and closed his eyes, hissing out a long breath. 

His eyes flew open when he felt her tug at his belt and start to undo his fly. He hadn’t really expected her to take the initiative to do that, but he was grateful for it. There really weren’t many things that were quite as uncomfortable as a raging erection trapped inside unyielding trousers. When she ran into trouble with a button that wouldn’t come free, he helped her. Otherwise she managed on her own. He watched her hands, feeling almost hypnotised by what they were doing, all thoughts of decency long gone.

When his cock finally sprang free, Stannis let out a relieved breath. Sansa started stroking him languidly, and he saw that she was looking curiously at what she was doing. When she noticed that he was observing her, she blushed and gave him a shy smile. “Would you rather I didn’t look?”

He raised his eyebrows. Why would he mind? She looked at his cock like it was the most interesting thing in the world. What man wouldn’t want a beautiful woman to look at him like that?

“I said that you could have anything you wanted below or above my neck, didn’t I?” he answered wryly. “I suppose that implies permission to look.”

Sansa kissed him then, a deep, passionate kiss. He accepted her lips and her tongue, and curled his own around hers. It was a drawn out kiss which would have been pleasant on its own, but as Sansa was stroking him at the same time, it was positively blissful.

When their kiss broke, Sansa sighed happily. They had turned their bodies towards each for better access, and their faces were only inches apart. She looked relaxed, flushed and delighted. He wanted to kiss her some more, and touch her everywhere he could reach. It was just that what she was doing to his cock had him practically immobilised. He could barely concentrate on holding onto her waist.

“Do you ever do this - what I’m doing - on your own?” Sansa asked, eyes alive with curiosity.

Stannis nodded warily, wondering where this was headed.

“Me too. Well, except I never really use my fingers the way you do,” she admitted, turning very pink. _What did she use if not her fingers? Did she have a toy? She didn’t seem like the type to have a vibrator, but you never knew…_ Stannis stayed quiet, knowing that if he made a sound it would come out as something obscene. He just nodded again, hoping his eyes were saying everything he wanted to.

“What do you think about? You know, when you do it?” She looked like she could hardly believe that she was asking him, but also like she _really_ wanted to know.

Stannis swallowed nervously. What could he tell her? Wouldn’t it intimidate her to know how much he fantasised about her mouth on him, or about what it would feel like to bury himself to the hilt inside her? He’d have to try to be vague. He had a feeling that if he tried to avoid answering she would slow down or loosen her grip on him, and what she was doing felt too good to risk that.

When he opened his mouth to speak, a rough growling sound escaped his throat. He tried to cover it up by speaking, but he was sure he still sounded rather coarse.

“Lately, it’s been you. You are a living fantasy,” he attempted, hoping the slightly cheesy compliment would satisfy her curiosity. He really didn’t want to go into the vulgar details of what his mind came up with when he was far gone and close to coming.

“Do I do anything in your fantasies that I haven’t done in real life?” She moved to suck on his pulse point after asking him, and his mind went blank for a moment. When she moved back again to look at him inquisitively, her hand slowing, he remembered that he needed to answer her.

“Yes, but they’re just fantasies.” He paused because Sansa did something that felt incredible as soon as he started to talk, and he needed to stop to breathe. “I don’t expect you to do anything you’re not ready to do,” he added, slightly surprised that his voice still worked.

“I know that.” She kissed him tenderly. With an impish smile she continued, “I’m still curious about what it is that I do in your fantasies.”

Stannis closed his eyes. Could he tell her? He was sure that his fantasies were not the most inventive ones out there, she wasn’t naive, she had to know what he thought about. Not least because he had already flat out shown her how he wanted to take her - using his hand to demonstrate. 

She just wanted him to talk about it. He opened his eyes to look at her, noting her flushed cheeks and chest, her parted lips, her deep breathing, and the excitement sparkling in her eyes. Was the idea of him sharing a fantasy so arousing to her?

They were just words. He could say some words if it pleased her to hear them. It was just getting hard to speak as he was so _close._ He tried to think of a fantasy to share, but his mind was only coming up with brief flashes of imagined situations. Finally he remembered the first fantasy he had ever had about her. It was shameful, but it would have to do.

“Sometimes you’re on your knees.” He made an undignified sound when she squeezed him tighter. Gods, that felt good. Would she do it again if he kept talking? “Looking up at me, my cock in your - in your mouth - Ah!” He cried out because he was almost there. If she would just go a little faster…

“I don’t think I’d be able to fit very much of it in my mouth.” She sounded thoughtful and a little concerned. If he hadn’t already been on the brink, her words might have brought him to it. He knew it was a terrible cliché for him to want her to be impressed with his size, but it was a desire which came from a very primitive part of him. He had no control over it.

“Please, Sansa, could you - _please_ \- faster?” He couldn’t manage a full sentence, just gasping out disjointed words, begging her to bring him his release.

She did as he asked, and it was only a few seconds until he came, her name on his lips, breathless and strangled. He felt high and fuzzy for several minutes, the pleasure had been more intense than it usually was. Perhaps the long wait while he helped her with her dresses had been worth it? He rolled from his side to his back, his muscles feeling weak and uncooperative. Sansa followed him, crawling half on top of him and nuzzling his neck. Her weight felt pleasant, especially where her breasts pressed against his shirt. He wished he wasn’t wearing it so that he could feel them properly.

His mind was rapidly clearing, and he realised that he had yet again ignored his rational mind and said things to Sansa that he wasn’t entirely sure he should have said. He was starting to understand why Robert was always making foolish decisions. He was about to attempt some sort of apology when Sansa spoke.

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to wear these to dinner.” Sansa looked pointedly at her underwear, worrying at her bottom lip.

Stannis furrowed his brow and thought about asking her to clarify when it occurred to him that she was probably telling him that she was wet. His softening cock twitched at the idea, and if he had been Sansa’s age he might have been ready for round two in just a few minutes. It was probably a good thing that he wasn’t. What would he do with another erection?

“I really liked hearing what you think about,” she said, as if that explained everything.

He decided it was his turn to do something for her, so he rolled them over, switching their positions around. She was on her back now, and he was hovering over her. He didn’t loom for very long, eager to taste her skin. He started kissing a trail from her lips, down her neck, her breasts, her abdomen, working his way towards her thighs. They were open-mouthed kisses, and he allowed himself to taste her thoroughly wherever he went. Her skin tasted like skin usually did, but she smelled _delicious_.

Sansa, responsive as always, was moaning as if he were already doing much more than kiss her. Had she been holding back at the beach house? Would she get louder if he started to do something worth moaning about?

He was kissing the top of her thigh now, and she parted her legs without a word. This close to her centre he could smell her arousal -- a heady, alluring scent. He desperately wanted to bury his face in her heat and make her really _scream_ , but he remembered her telling him just a few days ago that she wasn’t ready for that.

Then it was as if Margaery Tyrell’s voice whispered in his ear - wicked advice about _speeding things along._ Had Stannis been a less scrupulous man, he might have tested Margaery’s theory.

As it was, he just attacked her inner thighs with lips, tongue and teeth, enjoying the way she quivered and moaned and called out for more. Without stopping, he reached up to add to her pleasure by touching her where she most needed to be touched. She gasped.

“Stannis, oh Gods, _Stannis_.”

That did manage to make him hard again. Damn it.

It was a little tricky to touch her and use his mouth at the same time, so he didn’t keep it up for very long. Instead he chose to move to a more comfortable position, and focus entirely on what he was doing with his hands. He was getting better and better at telling what she liked and what she _really_ liked, and he was hardly making any false moves that made her flinch. It was annoying to have her underwear get in the way. Even when he moved it to the side it was still a little obstructive.

“Just take it off!” she breathlessly commanded, the third time he stopped what he was doing to move her underwear out of the way again. He did not need to be told twice. He slid the scrap of material off immediately, throwing it across the room. Then he paused to take in the sensual tableau in front of him. 

Her hair was fanned over the bedspread behind her, shocking red against navy blue. Her face was flushed, her eyes were closed, her lips swollen and parted. Her chest was heaving, doing very interesting things to the enhanced cleavage displayed by her bra, and her ivory skin was glistening with a sheen of perspiration. Her form was smooth and toned, dipping at her waist and flaring out at her hips. Without her underwear on, he could see a small thatch of red hair; it was a very neat, small triangle, and he suspected most of the hair that was supposed to be there had been removed. The lace of her stockings completed the erotic picture, and Stannis was certain he had never seen anything so arousing before.

He didn’t allow himself to stare for long, knowing that it might make Sansa uncomfortable. Instead he put his hands to work, wishing the whole time that he could do more. He was sure she was physically ready for him. He could feel how hungry her body was, easily accepting two, then three, fingers. Even then she was still begging for more, squirming and bucking up against his hand, her head moving from side to side, eyes closed in concentration.

Stannis always thought it was very interesting how women experienced pleasure in a different way from men. He knew that for women, their mind needed to be stimulated as much as their body. That’s why it didn’t surprise him to see a look of concentration on her face. He also suspected that was the reason she liked to talk about fantasies and other such things - to get into the right frame of mind.

As a reserved person, it was difficult for him to say some of the things she wanted to hear, but he really couldn’t argue with the results.

Sansa’s moans were turning into cries, and it was an exercise in self control to prevent himself from climbing on top of her and giving her what she so clearly needed. What he needed. What they both _wanted_. He was becoming really unclear on why he wasn’t supposed to. He knew there was a reason, he just couldn’t quite remember what it was. Still, he gritted his teeth and held back.

He could hear that Sansa was approaching her climax, and he started to curl his fingers the way that she liked. She must have been closer than he had realised, because she immediately cried out, the loudest she had been yet, and practically sobbed with pleasure. Every sound she made went straight to his cock, and he truly felt as if his orgasm from before had never happened. Was his body under the impression that he was still eighteen? _Ridiculous and inconvenient..._

He sensed when Sansa wished him to move his hands away. He withdrew his hands and looked at them, wondering if it would shock her if he tasted her on his fingers. A glance at her face revealed that she was lost to the world for the time being. Her eyes were closed and he was proud to note that she looked blissfully relaxed. He quickly snuck a taste while she wouldn’t notice. He wasn’t sure if it would embarrass her or not, and didn’t want to risk disrupting her afterglow. The taste was neither bad nor good, it was mostly a little tangy, but he liked it because it was hers. He wouldn’t mind getting it straight from the source.

He got up to fetch a washcloth from his bathroom, Sansa usually appreciated that. He tried to will his erection away, but it remained stubbornly in place. With a grimace he stuffed it back inside his trousers, avoiding the temptation to handle it too much as he did. It was incredibly uncomfortable, but he didn’t know what else to do. Maybe a shower?

The number of frustrating showers in his life had increased substantially since he started seeing Sansa, but he didn’t mind. It was worth it. _She_ was worth it.

He washed his hands and placed a washcloth under the faucet, making sure it was a comfortable temperature. When he finished wringing most of the water from the it, he walked back to the bed to hand it to Sansa.

“Thanks.” She gave him a lazy, satisfied smile and accepted the cloth.

Stannis cleared his throat and tried not to look at how thoroughly debauched she looked, focusing intently on her face. “I’m thinking of having a shower. After that it will probably be time to get ready for dinner.” He tried not to sound strained and obviously aroused, but he had a feeling he failed spectacularly. He felt suddenly very aware of how he was still fully dressed, while she was practically naked. He wasn’t sure if he should continue to stand or if he should sit down, so he just shifted from one foot to the other.

“Oh, I was going to ask to shower too.” She smiled at him, looking much more at ease than he felt. “Shall we take turns?” she asked, but she didn’t give him a chance to reply before her smile widened into an excited grin. “Or we could share!”

A crystal clear mental image of himself pinning Sansa against the tiles of his shower materialised behind his eyes. He could see her body, all wet and slippery, her longs legs wrapped around his middle, her arms around his neck, and he could practically _feel_ the water pounding his back as _he_ pounded himself into her.

Back in reality, Sansa was looking at him, her eyes bright, waiting for a response.

Every particle of his being was telling him to say yes, except the part of him that he never failed to listen to. That part was telling him to get Sansa to clarify what she wanted. Was she asking him to stand next to her, both of them completely naked under a spray of warm water, and just get clean? Because that would be a challenge.

“You would - I mean - do you think that would be - ah - appropriate?” he managed to ask, his words refusing to come out the way he wanted them to.

“Why wouldn’t it be? We’ve already seen everything, anyway.” She seemed to think it was quite simple. Then again, she wasn’t the one with the rebellious body parts.

He swallowed and ran a hand through his hair, trying to think of an argument against her straight forward logic. He’d have to admit that he wasn’t entirely… finished. He winced a little. He hadn’t decided whether he would have used his shower to quickly get himself off, or if he would have put the cold water on. With Sansa there with him, the cold water would not be an option.

Something in his facial expression or his body language must have alerted Sansa to his predicament, because now her eyes were noticing the bulge at the front of his trousers, widening and looking back at his face.

“Already?” She looked embarrassed, flattered and impressed, all at the same time. “I thought - don’t men usually need a little time… ?” she trailed off, blushing.

Stannis grimaced and looked down at himself in annoyance. “Usually,” he said, his tone clipped.

“Did you want to be alone in the shower to, _you know_?” She sat up, her legs going over the edge of the bed. She crossed them modestly. “I wouldn’t mind if you did - while I was there,” she added, looking up at him and blinking slowly. “If you don’t mind me seeing.”

Stannis stared at her, feeling a little like he should sit down. She wanted to join him in the shower and watch him get himself off?

“That’s - that’s really not appropriate,” he choked out, almost dizzy with blood loss from his brain. Or that’s what he expected was the reason for his unsteadiness. There couldn’t be much blood left to run his brain, not with it having rushed to his groin all at once like that.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have suggested it. It was a silly idea. I don’t know what got into me. I’m sure there is another shower I can use, isn’t there?” Sansa babbled, looking very embarrassed at his rejection.

He panicked then, not wanting her to feel rejected. Having her shower with him was currently at the top of the list of things he really wanted to do, but were probably bad ideas, but he would rather give it a try - and damn the consequences to his dignity - than have her feel unwanted.

“No, it’s - it’s fine. You can, come - I mean, watch - that is, shower,” his tongue felt completely unwieldy, and he wasn’t sure he’d uttered such a broken sentence since he was first learning to speak.

Sansa did not seem to mind at all. She beamed at him, stood up and breezed past him as he stood there, rooted to the spot. He followed her with his eyes until she disappeared into the bathroom, unable to keep from staring at her shapely behind. _Seven hells._

He heard the shower come on. “The temperature is perfect!” Sansa informed him with delight.

Groaning to himself, he started to unbutton his shirt and head for his doom.

Once inside, he could see Sansa’s blurry, _naked_ , form behind the frosted glass that separated them. His heart beating wildly, he hurried to discard his clothes so that he could join her.

He noticed that his cock was already sticky with fluid that had seeped from the tip, and shook his head incredulously.

He took a deep breath before joining Sansa behind the glass, preparing himself as best he could. He knew he’d probably be struck dumb by the sight that awaited him, but there was nothing for it.

He was glad of the deep breath he had taken when he saw her, because he was indeed struck dumb, and made breathless to boot. Her hair looked much darker now that it was soaked through and slicked back, he noticed. It was strange, but the darker shade made her seem older and more seductive somehow. Letting his eyes travel down, he took in the exquisite contours of her body. Then his eyes were drawn to the rivulets of water running over and between her breasts, streaming over her torso, over her thighs, her long calves, and all the way to the tiles on the floor.

Before he could consider the wisdom of his action, he moved to wrap his arms around her, pressing a hand between her shoulder blades to crush her chest to his, burying his other hand in her wet hair and holding her head in place so that he could kiss her as deeply, and as much as he wished. She responded eagerly, and the kiss went on for what seemed like both an eternity and no time at all. 

Kissing while soaking wet was similar to kissing while dry. It was much wetter, but otherwise the same, he thought. Feeling her naked body against his - while soaking wet with warm water - was a very different experience, however. He felt like his senses were being overloaded with the pleasure of it.

His cock was trapped between their bodies, pressed against her stomach, and he rubbed it against her to create a little friction. The water was, as ever, a terrible lubricant so he broke the kiss to reach for a bottle of lotion that he definitely did not keep in the shower just for this purpose.

Sansa watched him with wide, curious eyes as he coated himself with a generous dollop of lotion, letting out a small hiss of relief at the touch of his own hand. He thought he would feel uncomfortable with her watching him, but her eyes on him felt more arousing than anything else. Not to mention how _inspirational_ it was to be able to let his eyes roam over her naked form as he manipulated himself, chasing his release.

Sansa was blushing furiously, but her eyes were heavy lidded and her chest was heaving with deep, aroused breaths. She reached for a bottle of shampoo that he didn’t recognise - she must have brought it with her - and started to lather up her hair, eyes still fixed on him.

“Are you thinking about anything specific right now?” she asked, her voice low and breathless.

He had been replaying the mental image from before in his mind, imagining what it would feel like to plunge into her heat with her legs wrapped tightly around him, all wet and slippery. It was all too easy to imagine his bulk pinning her against the wall, and the sounds their wet bodies would make, smacking against each other.

“Pinning you - taking you against that wall - “ he gasped out, nodding at the wall he referenced.

At his words she made a high pitched sound that he didn’t know how to describe, and she abandoned her hair, still a soapy mess, dropping her hands to her sides briefly. She bit her lip and looked indecisive for a moment. Then she slowly rinsed her hands and pressed one against her centre, and brought the other to her breast, fingers caressing her nipple delicately. She moaned. It was a drawn out, breathy sound that drove him wild.

Stannis, overwhelmed by the sight of her and the sounds she was making, couldn’t help himself. He sped up to a punishing pace, hurtling towards his release, and took a step towards her, closing the small distance between them. He cupped her free breast, enjoying the way it felt different from the last time he had touched her breasts -- wet and warm from the shower. Listening intently to the sounds Sansa was making, he rolled her nipple between a thumb and forefinger. Her breath hitched at that, and he kissed her aggressively, stealing her breath. She kept moaning despite this, and he eagerly swallowed every sound. His hand was still working furiously, and he could feel his impending climax coming nearer. 

She let go of her breast to grab a hold of the back of his head, nails raking across his scalp in a way that sent jolts of pleasure shooting down his spine.

It was too much. 

He broke the kiss so that he could call her name, his voice rough and raw. “Fuck, _Sansa!_ ”

He came with a force that startled him, and he looked down at himself in surprise. He saw that some of his semen had ended up on Sansa’s flat stomach, only an inch or two away, before the shower rinsed the evidence off her. A primitive part of him was incredibly satisfied to see it. It felt like marking her as his, even if it was only briefly. he knew he’d probably feel guilty about thinking it later, but his mind was too clouded by the haze of a good orgasm to care.

He collapsed against the wall, needing the support to keep himself upright. He had just climaxed for the second time in less than an hour, and he was feeling decidedly shaky. He had his eyes closed, but he could hear Sansa splashing around next to him. Probably rinsing the shampoo from her hair.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice kind, but a little amused too. He couldn’t blame her, he must look a sight.

“I will be in a minute,” he answered, trying to focus on getting his breathing under control.

“That was incredibly sexy, by the way,” she commented, sounding absolutely genuine. He opened his eyes to look at her, and saw that her eyes were dark and fixed on him. She had finished getting all the soap out of her hair, he noticed.

Feeling slightly more in control of himself, he kissed her wet lips quickly. “It was... not entirely objectionable.” He didn’t really feel comfortable with telling her that it had been one of the most erotic things that he had done, and could she please return the favour and let him watch her sometime? She looked at him as if she understood what he meant, anyway.

She reached for a bottle of conditioner and combed the product through her long hair with her fingers. He knew he should probably wash too, but it just felt so pleasant to stand uselessly under the spray and watch her. She noticed him watching, and started to move more deliberately and slowly. She was putting on a show, he realised. A reward?

Finished with the conditioner, she retrieved a bottle of shower gel. The scent of it was like concentrated Sansa, and he breathed it in eagerly. It was missing a few notes, the part of the scent that came from her skin, but it was close enough. She started to lather herself up, stepping from under the spray a little so that the suds wouldn’t run off right away. He followed her hands with his eyes greedily, enjoying the way she lingered at her breasts, shooting him devious little looks.

Watching her was almost enough to make him reconsider his stance on religion. He just couldn’t make up his mind up about whether she had been sent from below or above.

She rinsed her body slowly too, running her hands all over herself shamelessly. She seemed to really revel in the way he was staring at her like a drooling imbecile, which was convenient because he couldn’t have stopped staring if he tried.

When she was finished, she pressed herself fully against him and kissed him hotly.

“I’m going to go get ready now.” She said when the kiss broke, giving him a small smile. He just nodded mutely, and watched as she disappeared to the other side of the frosted glass.

He stood up from his slumped position against the wall and slicked his hair back using both hands. He needed to wash and get ready too.

As he lathered his hair up, he wondered if Davos would be able to tell by looking at him what he and Sansa had got up to this afternoon. Davos knew him better than anyone, but Stannis hoped that he wouldn’t be able to tell. That would make dinner rather awkward.


	19. Dinner

Sansa could not believe how she had spent her afternoon. It had just felt fun, and right, and adventurous to walk around in her underwear and revel in all the hungry looks Stannis kept shooting her. It had been a little nerve-racking too, but mostly it had made her feel like the most desirable woman on the planet. Of course, after he’d started using his hands on her her, it had been as if all her nervous shyness had disappeared. It had felt completely natural to let him take her underwear off, and then shower together. 

Gods, watching Stannis get himself off in the shower was probably the hottest thing she had ever witnessed. She felt her face heating up, and her heart rate jumping at the fresh memory.

Still, she had no idea where her initial confidence had come from. All that time in alone in a car with Margaery must have addled her brain, making her believe she was a fearless temptress, and not a shy sort-of virgin.

She wasn’t really sure she could call herself a virgin anymore. After all, if she were a lesbian, the things she was doing with Stannis would count as sex, wouldn’t they?

“You know you’ve lost your virginity when you feel like you’ve lost your virginity,” Margaery had said when Sansa wondered about it in the past.

She was just about done applying her mascara, but she paused to look at herself critically in the mirror. Did she feel like she had lost her virginity?

No. 

Maybe it made her a cog in the machine of heteronormativity that Renly was always talking about on his blog, but she _was_ straight. For the most part, at least. She didn’t think she’d feel like she had experienced sex fully until she’d actually gone _all the way._ She didn’t expect everyone to feel that way, so she hoped it didn’t make her a bad person to adhere to the old-fashioned, hopelessly out-dated definition of sex.

She chewed on her lip for a while, furrowing her brow worriedly.

Deciding that it was really no one’s business but her own, she finished putting her mascara on.

She was already in black dress number three, and she had fixed her hair before she had done her make-up. Now that her mascara was on, all she needed to do was put on her shoes. First she needed to clear the table, though.

Sansa was sitting at the dining room table, because it was situated near some truly huge windows. The late afternoon sunlight that shone through them was the best light she could find in the apartment. She needed light to do her make-up, and she needed a table for her cosmetics. As it was a bachelor pad for the most part, there were no dressing tables or vanities with lights around the edges of the mirror to be found. Thankfully, she had thought to bring her own mirror.

Stannis had finished getting ready much more quickly than she had, and was currently in the kitchen trying to find a gravy boat. His inability to find anything in his own kitchen reminded Sansa irresistibly of her father. It made her smile and wonder if she’d ever be to Stannis what her mother was to her father -- the person who always found the things he was looking for.

It was frightening to realise how much she already wanted to be that person for him. They’d only been together a relatively short time, after all.

Stannis appeared from the kitchen holding two gravy boats.

“The good news is that I found gravy boats. The bad news is that I have no idea which one is meant to go with the rest of the dinnerware. They both look exactly the same to me.” He looked vaguely puzzled, but not really all that worried about it. She had a feeling he was just keeping himself busy until the guests arrived.

Sansa started packing up her brushes and her eyeshadow palettes. “Let me have a look. Where is the rest of the dinnerware?”

“Still in the kitchen. I thought I’d let you finish before I started to set the table.” He looked at the various jars and tubes, pencils and pots, bottles and odd implements - pencil sharpeners and eyelash curlers - that she was quickly stuffing back into a bag, with bemusement.

“I’m just going to put this stuff away, then you can show me, and I can help you set the table.”

Sansa quickly stashed her make-up bag in her little suitcase, and joined Stannis in the kitchen to investigate dinnerware patterns. It was immediately obvious to her which gravy boat went with the set, and she seriously explained to him how to tell the difference. He seemed to think it was unnecessary, but listened attentively anyway.

“Also, this one has cerulean details, but in the first set they were clearly teal,” Sansa finished and Stannis nodded as if he understood. She was pretty sure Stannis did not see the difference between cerulean and teal, but she liked that he didn’t act condescending. He seemed perfectly willing to accept her expertise on this matter, even though he couldn’t really see the point.

They set the table for four, and Sansa was surprised when Stannis took out a bottle of red wine and opened it to let it breathe. She hadn’t really expected him to serve wine with dinner.

“I know I have a wine decanter around here somewhere… “ he trailed off and started a new search. Sansa hid a smile with her hand, stifling a giggle. She decided to go put on her shoes while he looked as she doubted she could be of any help to him. She was even more unfamiliar with where things were than he seemed to be.

When she returned, feet firmly encased in her nicest black pumps, Stannis had only searched two cupboards. 

“I’ve never really understood the importance of a wine decanter,” Sansa commented idly.

“Well, the wine I have is a Cabernet Sauvignon. It’s rather tannic and full-bodied. It benefits from being aerated. Pouring it into a decanter helps the wine take up oxygen, which opens up the aromas and flavours,” Stannis explained a little distractedly as he stuck his head into another cupboard.

“Oh, that makes sense,” Sansa said, nodding. She appreciated how he explained things. She was still occasionally bugging him for help when she read something in her University texts that didn’t make sense, and he had a way of getting the point across very efficiently.

“Ah, here it is.” Stannis emerged with the decanter and immediately started pouring the wine into it. Sansa watched with interest. She didn’t know much about wine, but she liked learning. Some might think it was snobby, but Sansa thought it was distinguished to be well informed about wine.

They both looked up when there was a knock at the door.

Stannis glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. “They’re a little early.”

Sansa stood beside Stannis as he opened the door, feeling nervous, but mainly curious about what Davos and Marya would be like.

Sansa’s first impression of Davos and Marya was that they looked very kind, and Davos looked much more cheerful than she would have expected for anyone who was best friends with Stannis. Davos was going grey already, even though he was just as young as Stannis, but Sansa thought it suited him well. He looked very fit, but better fed than Stannis. Marya was all soft curves, full hips and generous bosom. She looked like she gave wonderful hugs, was Sansa’s first thought.

The first few minutes after Davos and Marya came into the apartment were a blur of greetings, introductions, coats being hung up, drinks being offered and all the chatter generally associated with guests arriving.

“Sansa, you are absolutely stunning! What a gorgeous dress!” Marya exclaimed as they walked from the front door to a cluster of couches and easy chairs. Sansa thanked her for the compliment, feeling very flattered and a little embarrassed at the attention.

“I like your dress too, I’ve always loved that colour,” Sansa said, eyeing Marya’s copper toned wrap-dress.

She noticed that Stannis and Davos were speaking in low tones as she and Marya chatted about dresses, favourite boutiques, and where they had bought the ones they were wearing. Sansa was sure Davos glanced at her, and wondered if they were talking about her.

She knew the delivery from the restaurant would arrive soon, but until it did they could sit and talk for a little while, taste the wine and work up an appetite eating stuffed olives.

She was curious about what the three Seaworth boys were doing while their parents were away, so she asked about them, knowing that parents could generally be counted on to enjoy talking about their kids.

“Devan is watching the other two scoundrels, they’re ordering pizza and staying up to watch movies Marya and I probably wouldn’t approve of,” Davos explained with a wry grin.

“It’s all right for Devan to let his little brothers watch something horrible or violent, he’s not the one who gets woken up in the middle of the night because Steffon’s had a nightmare,” Marya complained, fondly amused and irritated at the same time.

The topic of Davos and Marya’s children lasted them until the delivery from the restaurant arrived a few minutes later. Sansa learned that Devan’s younger brothers were called Stannis and Steffon, that Devan wanted to join the Westeros Navy like Davos had, and that Marya was hoping he could do that without going to the military school Davos and Stannis had gone to. She wanted him to go to school closer to home.

Sansa helped Stannis get all the food sorted out, and they were soon serving the first course. It was a duck salad with pomegranate seeds, and Sansa thought it was amazing. She very rarely had duck, but she had always liked it.

Marya and Davos exclaimed it was the best duck salad they’d ever had, and Davos jokingly toasted the ‘chef’. Sansa saw that Stannis did not take offense to the gentle ribbing, in fact, he looked amused.

As they ate, Marya asked Sansa what she was planning to do after the summer holiday.

“I’m going to business school in King’s Landing. I’m really looking forward to it. I think it will be fun to live in the city.” She looked at Stannis and thought how much easier everything would be for them when she didn’t live more than an hour away from him. Maybe she looked at him a little too obviously, because Davos and Marya were smiling and giving each other knowing looks. Sansa bent her head over her plate, feeling a little embarrassed. Was she really so transparent that they could guess at her thoughts?

“I’m sure it will be fun. You’ll be able to meet so many interesting people and go to all the events and concerts. I remember when I first moved away from my parents and into the city, it was so freeing!” Marya said cheerfully.

Sansa was grateful to Marya for not pointing out how Sansa must obviously be looking forward to living close by Stannis.

Davos asked her which school she was going to, and she told him it was the King’s Landing School of Economics.

“Isn’t that where Baelish is chancellor?” Davos directed his question at her, but looked at Stannis quickly to gauge his friend’s reaction. Sansa looked at Stannis too, and noticed that his lips had tightened, and it looked like there was a dark cloud of annoyance hovering over his head.

“Yes, it’s the best school when it comes to business degrees. Otherwise I might consider switching schools. Mr. Baelish is a little off-putting.” Sansa tried to put it delicately, feeling it might be crass of her to call her future chancellor a creep in front of people she didn’t know too well.

“Really? How so? I’ve never met him.” Marya looked curiously at Sansa and took a bite of her salad.

Sansa pushed some pomegranate seeds around on her plate, wondering how much she should say. She didn’t want to sugarcoat anything, but neither did she want to make him out to be some sort of demon. She glanced at Stannis, and he raised an eyebrow. He was obviously interested in what she would say.

“Maybe I’m overreacting, but he was just a little too aggressive about dancing with me when we first met, and a little handsy. He also offered to take me on a private tour of the school grounds, and then he sent me this weird message the other day... I don’t know. It just makes me a little uncomfortable. Especially since he apparently has a history with my mother and my aunt -- which I hope you will forgive me for not going into.” Sansa took a larger sip of wine than she usually would after she spoke. 

Stannis snapped his head around to look at her intently when she mentioned the message from the other day.

“What message? What did he say?” he interrogated sharply as she was sipping her wine.

Sansa blushed, feeling awkward about having this conversation in front of other people. She should have remembered that she hadn’t told Stannis about the message yet.

Swallowing uncomfortably, she looked at him as calmly as she could. “It was the day we got back from the beach house, just one of many messages I got that day because of the gossip and the pictures.” She took a deep breath. “I must have forgot to tell you. It wasn’t anything that important, anyway. He was just offering a shoulder to cry on, I guess?” She shrugged helplessly. “I didn’t answer him.”

Before Stannis could respond, Davos spoke. “How interesting,” he gave Stannis a significant look, “it’s as if Baelish is trying to cause you grief on as many fronts as he can.”

“What do you mean?” Marya asked, curiously. She had beaten Sansa to the punch. If Marya hadn’t asked, she would have.

Stannis and Davos exchanged more significant looks, and Sansa knew that they were having a silent conversation. Robb and Jon did this sometimes.

“Petyr Baelish is funding Balon Greyjoy’s attempt at buying back the fishing industry in Pyke. At least, the parts that I control,” Stannis explained, derision dripping from every word. Marya’s eyes widened and she let out a little shocked sound.

“And that would be bad?” Sansa guessed, feeling a little out of the loop.

“Balon Greyjoy is not the sort of man who thinks overly much about the welfare of the people who count on him as an employer,” Stannis bit out. He seemed angry, but not at her or Davos or Marya. He seemed angry that there were such people as Balon Greyjoy.

Sansa nodded in understanding. She recalled Stannis saying something about Balon Greyjoy coming out the worse in a business deal with Stannis and her father, and wondered if this was connected.

“Why would Mr. Baelish want to help Mr. Greyjoy?” Sansa asked, furrowing her brow.

“Petyr Baelish never does anything unless it benefits him either monetarily or in some other way,” Davos contributed, looking thoughtful. “He has to have an angle.”

“I could ask him,” Sansa offered with a small shrug.

“Absolutely not. If you give that man your little finger, he’ll take your whole arm,” Stannis warned. It sounded like he was repeating a phrase that had been used about Mr. Baelish before. “I don’t think you should be in any unnecessary contact with him,” he added, giving her a look that Sansa could only describe as possessive. It made her stomach do a little flip to see it.

“Honestly, Stannis. You’re talking like a caveman.” Marya rolled her eyes. “You can’t just order her not to talk to other men.”

“Usually I would agree, my dear, but Littlefinger is not like most men,” Davos argued. “He’s not to be trusted around young women, especially. There have been rumours about him and some of his students.”

Sansa frowned at the pseudonym Davos had used. Placed in context with what Stannis had said, it was a rather ominous one. It made Mr. Baelish sound a bit like a shark, she thought. Remembering what her mother had told her about him and Aunt Lysa, and she decided that it was all rather apt. Hearing that there were rumours about him and his students made sense, too. If he acted the way he had with her around students all the time, she could easily see rumours like that getting started. She wondered if those rumours were the reason he thought he could comfort her when she had to deal with cruel gossip of her own.

“Yes, Robert told me some of those rumours. He can usually be relied upon to pick these things up. If it’s indecent and salacious, he’s the first to know,” Stannis confirmed with a put-upon sigh.

There was a lull in the conversation.

Sansa noticed that they had all finished their salads. “Is everyone ready for the main course?” She looked at Marya and Davos, they nodded.

Stannis and Sansa went to the kitchen to fetch the beef tenderloin. They didn’t linger over their task, but while Stannis poured the fluffy sauce Béarnaise into the gravy boat with the cerulean details, he spoke quietly.

“We’ll have to discuss Baelish properly at a later time. I hope you will tell me if he contacts you again. He is not to be underestimated.” His tone was grave, and Sansa swallowed nervously. In the back of her mind she had already been hatching a vague plan to speak to Mr. Baelish and try to find out why he was funding Balon Greyjoy, despite Stannis warning her against it. She had the idea that Stannis would be pleased if she could find the reason, and then he wouldn’t mind that she’d spoken to Mr. Baelish to get it. She couldn’t really come to any harm from just _talking_ to the man, could she?

She decided to change the subject while they finished arranging the steaks, baked potatoes, and fancy-looking asparagus on four plates.

“Yes, of course. What did Davos say when you were talking so quietly at the front door, earlier?” She looked at Stannis curiously. His ears went a little red and he made an uncomfortable sort of sound.

“He said that you were very beautiful,” he muttered this under his breath as they carried two plates each to the dining room. He obviously didn’t want Davos and Marya to hear, but Davos seemed to pick it up anyway.

“That’s not what I said!” he protested cheerfully, “I said that I had prepared myself for beauty, as I had seen the famous pictures, but that I was awed by the vision you presented when I saw you at the door.” He gave her a playful wink.

Sansa felt herself flush, and she was glad that she had already put the plates she had been carrying down. It would have been easy to knock something over in her flustered state.

“You incorrigible flatterer!” Marya laughed delightedly and swatted her husband’s arm.

“I should have known she’d be something special, to have attracted and kept Stannis’ attention.” Davos smiled at his wife, and then at Sansa. Stannis had tactically retreated to the kitchen to get the gravy boat, so he was unable to receive any smiles.

“What you see in _him_ , however, is a complete mystery,” Davos teased, raising his voice so that Stannis could hear him as he approached with the sauce Béarnaise.

“You’d be surprised,” Sansa heard herself say slyly, her mouth speaking without her permission. She grabbed her glass of wine and took another large sip to cover up her embarrassment.

“Oho!” Davos chortled, and lifted his glass. “Cheers to that!”

They all lifted their glasses and toasted, even Stannis - though he looked an odd mixture of annoyed, amused, and pleased with himself.

They started eating and there was a chorus of agreement that the steaks were perfect, and Davos remarked how good it was to get steaks that weren’t overcooked. Marya wanted to know which restaurant he had ordered from, and wondered if they should attempt to go there one day. Stannis told them which items on the menu were particularly good, and recommended the carpaccio.

When they had cleaned their plates, Davos offered to help Stannis clear the table, load the dishwasher, and fetch the dessert. Marya and Sansa thanked them and smiled, both secretly glad to have an opportunity to talk without the men listening.

“I can’t tell you how happy I am that you two are together,” Marya said as soon as the men were out of earshot, “I’ve never seen Stannis so relaxed.”

Sansa smiled and ducked her head shyly. “I can’t claim all the credit. I think he really enjoys being around you and Davos.”

Marya smiled at that, accepting credit where credit was due. There was a short pause, and they both sipped their drinks.

“I hope this isn’t impertinent of me to ask, but how is he treating you?” Marya asked, breaking the silence.

Sansa waved a hand to indicate that she wasn’t offended by the question at all. “He’s so wonderful, I can’t even begin to explain it,” she gushed, happy for the opportunity to tell someone new about it. Margaery was running out of patience with Sansa’s gushing, although she still wanted to be kept up to date if anything interesting happened in Sansa’s relationship.

“I’m glad to hear it. He can be so…” Marya trailed off, twirling her fingers a little helplessly.

“I know what you mean, but it’s surprisingly easy to get past it.” Sansa bit her lip and shrugged delicately.

“For you, maybe,” Marya laughed, “he’s obviously smitten with you.”

Sansa blushed. _Was he?_ It was nice to hear someone who knew him well and cared about him say it. Hearing Cersei say that he looked besotted wasn’t quite the same.

“I really like him,” Sansa admitted quietly, looking intently at her glass.

Marya reached out to place her hand on top of Sansa’s, squeezing it lightly. Sansa looked up to see the older woman looking at her with a kind, understanding smile.

After a short moment she removed her hand. “As much as I would like to continue our conversation, I really must use the powder room,” Marya said apologetically, getting up from the table.

“I’ll go check whether they’re making any progress in the kitchen.” Sansa stood up, too.

The two women parted ways, and Sansa headed for the kitchen. When she drew near she heard Stannis and Davos talking, and she slowed down to listen. If they were talking about work she didn’t want to bother them.

“... wanted, but I just can’t.” Stannis sounded a little frustrated.

“Are you in love with her?” Davos asked, his tone surprised.

“I don’t know. Maybe. I’ve never felt this way before.” Stannis spoke so quietly that Sansa had to strain to hear. She felt bad for listening to such a private conversation, but she couldn’t make herself stop. Not when they were talking about _her._ Her heart started beating twice as fast, and she could hardly believe that Stannis thought he might love her. The idea was thrilling, frightening and overwhelming. She couldn’t process it properly.

“I really don’t think I should let things progress that far. She’s never going to want to stay with me for long. I’m sure she’ll find someone… more appropriate.” The dejection is his tone made Sansa want to march right in there and tell him he was being ridiculous. She held back, however, knowing it would be incredibly stupid.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that. She doesn’t act like you’re some sort of phase. When you look at her she _glows,_ ” Davos argued. Sansa wanted to hug him for what he said.

“You think so?” Stannis sounded tentatively hopeful. “I keep thinking I’m no better than Petyr Baelish,” he continued worriedly.

“I can’t say the age difference didn’t surprise me at first, but you’re nothing like Littlefinger.” Davos sounded fierce and defensive. “You’re in a committed relationship with Sansa, and you’re not in a position to make or break her academic career based on whether she submits to your will or not.”

“That’s true, I suppose,” Stannis agreed reluctantly.

Sansa couldn’t stand to eavesdrop for longer. She walked into the kitchen, pretending she hadn’t heard a thing.

“Do you two need any help?” she asked brightly, hoping Stannis wouldn’t be able to tell that she had been listening.

“We were just about to bring the dessert out.” Davos smiled, nodding at the cheesecake standing on the counter.

“I’ll get the plates.” Sansa picked up the neat little stack of dessert plates and headed back to the dining room, grateful for a chance to calm herself down a little before she needed to make more civilised conversation.

It was difficult for Sansa to act like everything was fine during dessert. As if she hadn’t overheard Stannis admit that he might be in love with her. Every time she spoke to Stannis she felt herself blushing furiously, so she tried to keep quiet for the most part. Thankfully, Davos and Marya were more than happy to carry the conversation.

When Stannis did not appear to suspect her of anything after they had all eaten as much cake as they could stand, which for Stannis was not very much at all, Sansa began to relax. She would simply have to think about it all later, and focus on living in the moment.

They had been discussing Davos and Marya’s plans for a summer holiday in Europe with their sons, but the topic was just about exhausted. When silence fell, Sansa wondered if she should change the subject. Should she ask them if they’d seen any good shows lately? She could tell them about _Giselle_! She had no idea if they liked the ballet, though. Maybe she should ask what Davos had thought of being in the Navy?

In the end she did not need to, as Marya brought an old subject back to life.

“I’m sorry if this is something you do not wish to discuss, but it’s been nagging at me since we were talking about it earlier. I have friends in Pyke, and I would want to let them know if Greyjoy is about to buy back the bulk of the fishing industry. You said that he was attempting to do so - is he going to succeed?” Marya asked, observing Stannis keenly.

Stannis clenched his jaw, and Sansa could hear the grinding begin. Since she was sitting next to Stannis, and quite close too, she discreetly placed a hand on his knee under the table to try to distract him and get him to relax. It worked. Stannis looked at her, momentarily surprised, but he schooled his expression quickly and looked at Marya instead.

“I am in charge of the properties Greyjoy wishes to buy. I will have to agree to the sale in order for the deal to be possible. I will not agree to it under any ordinary circumstances.” Stannis ran a hand through his hair, a gesture Sansa was starting to associate with him feeling uncertain or frustrated. “However, I strongly suspect one of my employees is working on a way to force my hand. I simply do not know how, when or _why._ ”

Marya was nodding seriously, and Davos was looking grim. Sansa squeezed Stannis’ knee under the table reassuringly. She did not envy him the position that he was in. How awful to know that someone you trusted - an employee - was plotting to force him to sell property to someone who sounded no better than a tyrant. 

Sansa made up her mind then and there to help Stannis in any way that she could. If that meant talking to Mr. Baelish, she could toughen up and do it. 

From the sound of things, Mr. Greyjoy needed money from Mr. Baelish to be able to go through with this plan. If Sansa could find out why Mr. Baelish wanted to lend Mr. Greyjoy money, that could be a really important piece of information. Stannis might be able to use it to make sure Mr. Baelish changed his mind about funding Mr. Greyjoy. Maybe _she_ could even change Mr. Baelish’s mind. That would definitely help Stannis.

While Sansa made up her mind to talk to Mr. Baelish, Stannis had been explaining to Marya why he couldn’t just fire the employee he suspected of foul play. The explanation made a great deal of sense, Sansa thought. If someone was going to force you to do something, they could probably force you not to fire them, too.

“It’s all just awful!” Marya exclaimed, looking stricken.

“Well, nothing is certain yet. Melisandre might be overestimating her ability to sway me. I assure you, it will have to take something extraordinary for me to sell those properties. After what Eddard Stark and I went through to get them in the first place, I’m not going to let them go without a fight.”

Sansa made a note of the name Stannis had dropped, Melisandre had to be the employee who plotting against Stannis with Mr. Greyjoy. She also noticed that Stannis had mentioned her father.

“My dad helped you get those properties?” Sansa hoped Stannis would tell her more. When the subject came up at the beach where Stannis had been teaching Shireen the crawl, he hadn’t been keen to elaborate.

“Yes, Greyjoy had a particularly bad year a while back. He had been overfishing for a while - it was bound to bite him in the, ah, it was bound to catch up with him.” Stannis cleared his throat, obviously a little flustered at his near slip into bad language. Marya and Sansa smiled at each other, rolling their eyes. What did he think? That he would offend their delicate ears?

“He needed money, fast, and Eddard and I pooled our resources in order to buy out a large chunk of the fishing industry. We knew we had a once in a lifetime chance to make a difference in Pyke. Eddard managed some of the property for a few years, and it was largely due to his efforts that at least some of the fish species were able to bounce back. Managing the properties was a huge strain on his time and energy, however, so he eventually sold them to me. He knew I wouldn’t let his hard work go to waste,” Stannis explained, draining the last drops of his wine after he finished speaking.

“Well, can’t you sell the property to my dad again? I don’t think anyone would be able to force Dad to sell to Mr. Greyjoy,” Sansa asked, feeling sure that this was much too simple a solution, but not able to discern why.

Stannis gave her a tired, faint smile. “I thought about it, but as things stand your father would never be able to afford today’s market price for the properties. I’d be perfectly willing to sell them cheap, but I have to answer to my shareholders. It would not sit well with them if I suddenly decided to sell valuable property cheaply for ideological reasons.”

Sansa nodded in understanding. “Of course.” 

“Well, I hope it all works out. I’m sure you two be able to think of something. You always do.” Marya gave Stannis and Davos loyal, fierce looks. She looked as if she had perfect confidence in their ability to meet any challenge and win the day. Sansa understood why. She could not imagine a scenario where someone might be able to intimidate Stannis into giving up on his principles.

“We will certainly do our best.” Stannis nodded at Marya.

The conversation took a turn to lighter matters after that. Sansa asked Davos about his time in the Navy and he regaled them with a few amusing stories. Marya almost had to leave the table at one of them, saying that no matter how often she heard it she just couldn’t handle it. Too much second-hand embarrassment. Stannis looked enormously entertained, huffing out those sounds - not quite like scoffs - that were his version of laughter.

Sansa still had her hand on Stannis’ knee, but she decided to move it up a little, stroking his thigh just above the knee. She noticed him widen his eyes a fraction, and bit her lip to keep from smirking. He was obviously trying to appear as if he were still paying full attention to the stories Davos was telling, but she could tell that his thoughts were on her hand, inching up his thigh.

“And that’s when I said _he’s not an eggplant, he’s a Naval officer!_ ” Davos finished with a flourish, looking expectantly at Stannis. Marya had her face hidden in her hands, and Sansa giggled politely. Stannis was just nodding slightly, a vague look on his face. Sansa’s hand was just inches from his groin now.

“Stannis?” Davos prompted, looking concerned when Stannis didn’t react to the joke the way Davos had expected him to. Sansa knew she was being incredibly wicked, but she couldn’t help herself. It was still so new to her to be able to render a man like Stannis completely distracted with a single touch, that she was a little drunk on the power.

Stannis blinked a few times and seemed to wrench himself awake. “What was that? I apologise, I must be getting ti - tired,” Stannis politely covered for his inattention. He stumbled over the last word because that was when Sansa reached her destination. She had to bite back a victorious smile when she felt that he was hard.

“It is getting a little late,” Marya glanced at the time, and then at Davos, “do you think Devan is all right with the boys?” she asked worriedly.

“I’m sure they’re fine. Probably passed out over a violent film with pizza all over their faces,” Davos chuckled.

Davos looked at Stannis for a moment, and then at Sansa. Sansa tried to fix an innocent, attentive look on her face, but she didn’t quite know if she was successful. Mostly she was thankful that she wasn’t blushing. It had to be some sort of miracle.

Stannis had a neutral look on his face, but his eyes had a distinctly glazed over quality. Sansa was moving her hand over his hard length, rubbing lightly. She was careful only to move her hand, not her arm. She did not want it to be obvious to Marya and Davos that she was up to something.

“Regardless, I think it might be time for us to get going,” Davos said shrewdly, an amused glint in his eyes. When Stannis didn’t react to his words, Davos allowed his amusement to show more plainly. He smiled knowingly at his wife.

Marya looked at her husband in confusion for a moment, but then she looked at Stannis and comprehension seemed to dawn on her too. She returned her husband’s smile with a grin of her own. “Yes, I do believe it’s bed time,” she agreed with a face that was _almost_ straight.

Sansa understood that she was busted. Davos and Marya might not know exactly what was up, but they obviously knew Stannis well enough to see that _something_ was going on. Sansa withdrew her hand slowly, moving it back to Stannis’ knee. This seemed to stir him into action.

“It’s only ten…” Stannis protested weakly, grimacing as he realised that his poker face hadn’t worked. Sansa felt a peculiar mixture of guilt and pride at having been responsible.

“That’s late enough for an old married couple,” Marya replied, a smile still playing at her lips.

Sansa realised that it might be awkward for him to get up and see the guests to the door in his present state, so she decided to delay them for a little while to assuage her guilt.

“You should at least stay for a cup of coffee or tea,” she declared decisively, getting up from her chair. “What would you prefer?”

Davos asked for coffee, Marya and Stannis for tea.

Sansa left to prepare the hot drinks, wishing she could stay and listen to the conversation in the dining room.

She put cold water in the kettle and set it to boiling, found cups and saucers, teaspoons, sugar, milk and slices of lemon. She set everything on a trey and waited impatiently for the water to heat. It seemed to take forever. She shifted from one foot to the other, wondering if she should head back to the dining room while she waited.

Feeling guilty, but adventurous, she decided to sneak back along the corridor and see if she could hear voices from the dining room. Her heart skipped a beat when she heard Davos’ voice floating towards her.

“… don’t blame you. We’re happy to get out of your hair. We remember what it’s like at the start of a new relationship,” Davos laughed.

Sansa covered her mouth with a hand to prevent any sound from escaping.

“I - ah - I don’t know what you mean,” Stannis answered stubbornly.

“Really, Stannis. Don’t play dumb. It doesn’t suit you,” Marya sounded amused and exasperated, “it’s nothing to be ashamed of, wanting to spend some time alone with your girlfriend. I don’t think Davos lasted half as long as you did when we first went out with some of my friends.”

“I remember that! As I recall, I didn’t last long because _you_ decided to wear a very low-cut top, and then intentionally sat across from me!” Davos accused, attempting to sound righteously miffed and failing.

Marya laughed loudly, and Sansa decided she had heard enough. She tip toed back to the kitchen, just in time for the kettle to boil.

When she carried the trey into the dining room, Davos and Marya looked amused, and Stannis looked mutinous. He attempted to straighten his face when he saw her looking, but a small frown stayed in place. She hoped he wasn’t mad at her.

They lingered for a while over their drinks, Stannis and Davos discussing Baratheon Industries market shares, and ways to prevent rumours and gossip blogs from impacting the company in the future. Sansa could tell this was a subject they had discussed before, but had the feeling they had usually been trying to prevent Robert’s scandals from negatively influencing the stock prices. 

Sansa thought it was fascinating how certain types of rumours could influence the value of an entire company, and she paid close attention to everything Stannis and Davos were saying. Marya had obviously heard most of it before, and was calmly sipping her tea, clearly just listening out of politeness.

Shortly after they all finished their drinks, Marya and Davos insisted on calling a taxi. They didn’t make any insinuations about wanting to leave Stannis and Sansa alone, only saying they were getting tired and wanted to make sure their boys were all right.

Stannis and Sansa followed them to the door, and they talked a little more as the guests found and put on their coats. Then Stannis and Davos shook hands firmly, slapping each other on the back. Marya kissed the air on both sides of Sansa’s head, and she returned the gesture. Then she shook hands with Davos, liking his firm and warm grip. He covered their joined hands with his other briefly, and looked her straight in the eye.

“It was wonderful to finally meet you, Sansa,” he said genuinely.

“Likewise, the both of you,” Sansa said and smiled, looking at Davos and Marya in turn.

“We should do this again soon!” Marya suggested happily. They all agreed that it was a good idea.

“See you at work!” Davos saluted.

“Good night!” Marya called.

Sansa and Stannis spoke at the same time, wishing them a safe journey home. The couple disappeared down the hall towards the lift.

Stannis closed the door when they were out of sight, and more quickly than Sansa had even begun to anticipate, he grabbed her and pushed her against the door, trapping her with his body.

“You are a terrible _minx,_ ” he whispered hoarsely into her ear, sounding a little ominous.


	20. Dessert

Sansa shivered and gasped when she felt him harden against her hip.

Was he genuinely annoyed with her, or was he playing a game? His tone sounded serious, but his body disagreed -- it had nothing against her being a minx every now and then.

She wriggled experimentally, trying to loosen his grip on her. He groaned at the movement and held her tighter, pinning her against the door. In her heels she was nearly tall enough to look him in the eye, and she tilted her head up a little to do so. His eyes were dark with lust, and he was looking at her lips hungrily. She licked them, watching his eyes flash dangerously as she did.

“I’m sorry?” she apologised uncertainly, not sure what he wanted her to say.

“No you’re not,” he countered, a corner of his mouth lifting slightly.

“No I’m not,” she agreed, biting her lip now, making him groan.

“What should I do with you?” he asked in his rough, low voice. It made Sansa go weak at the knees to hear it, and sent a flood of heat to her centre. She wanted him to do a lot of things with her - anything he wanted, really. Strip her, take her right here against the door!

“I don’t know,” she answered demurely, not feeling brave enough to ask for anything.

He kissed her, or perhaps she should say he _devoured_ her. His lips and his tongue insistent and aggressive, claiming her mouth, exploring every corner. She accepted him happily, pressing herself against him just as he pushed forward against her, sandwiching her between his hard body and the door.

His hands went to her thighs, and suddenly he was lifting her off the floor, encouraging her to wrap her legs around him to keep herself from sliding down, his groin coming into delicious contact with hers. He was still pinning her against the door and he shifted his hands around slightly to help hold her up. He ended up gripping her tightly underneath her dress, his fingers digging into her thighs just above the lace of her stockings. Her arms went around his neck automatically as they continued to kiss each other feverishly. She could feel him rocking his hips slightly, and it was creating the most exquisite little shocks of pleasure where his erection was pressing insistently against her.

After a few minutes, Stannis moved. Carrying her easily, he went to the nearest sofa and sat down so Sansa could sit astride his lap. They broke their kiss and came up for air, breathing hard.

Sansa looked at him, enjoying how completely his face changed when he was consumed with lust. He looked like himself, but somehow like a darker, more dangerous version, just barely restrained. She didn’t get to look for long, as he attacked her throat, licking, biting gently and sucking at various spots, making her moan loudly.

As much as she wanted to let him take this make-out session further, she wanted to discuss something with him first.

She didn’t think she could admit to hearing that he thought he might love her, but she really wanted to address his concern that she might leave him for someone more _‘appropriate.’_

She said his name, attempting to get his attention. “Stannis?”

“Mm?” he answered, kissing her just where her jaw met her ear; she had to bite back a sigh at the pleasant sensation.

“I overheard something you said to Davos in the kitchen earlier. When you were getting the dessert,” Sansa began. She hurried to continue, not wanting Stannis to think she had overheard the love bit. “It was something about how you thought I would leave you for someone more appropriate? Did I hear that correctly?”

Stannis had stopped kissing her, allowing her to lean back slightly so they could look at each other.

“What else did you hear?” he asked sharply, looking suspicious and almost angry.

“Nothing I could make much sense of,” Sansa answered vaguely, but truthfully. She really hadn’t been able to process the idea that Stannis might love her.

Stannis searched her eyes, and she tried to meet his gaze as innocently as she could.

When he had satisfied himself that she was being honest, he pushed her off his lap, seating her beside him. She made a noise of complaint, but didn’t fight him. Then he ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

“I suppose I’m trying to prepare myself for you to lose interest in me,” he muttered.

“Why? I really like you,” Sansa asked, almost replacing the words _’really like’_ with _’love’_. It would be so easy to say it! She was almost sure that was how she felt.

“You’ll meet a lot of men who are closer to you in age when you start school. I doubt I will survive the comparison,” Stannis said stiffly, the bitterness strong in his tone.

“Have you forgot what I told you about my experience with men who are my age?” Sansa snapped. She hadn’t intended to sound annoyed, but she didn’t really have the patience for his self-pity.

“No, but not all men your age are like Joffrey,” Stannis crossed his arm in front of him.

“I know that, but they aren’t like _you_ , either!” Sansa said, frustrated that he wasn’t getting it.

Stannis was silent, looking at her in bewilderment.

“I really _really_ like you Stannis. _You._ Everything that makes you, you,” she said, emphasising her words and feeling less than eloquent.

“Why?” he blurted, still looking puzzled. Flattered, but puzzled.

“I don’t know!” she exclaimed, feeling frustrated, “maybe because you’re strong, and kind, and protective, and fair-minded? Maybe because you are handsome and you treat me like I’m the most beautiful girl you’ve seen, even though you routinely go to parties with celebrities and women like Cersei Lannister? Maybe because you listen when I talk, and you’re not condescending when I’m interested in something you’re not interested in. Because you’re patient, and a good teacher, and you’re amazing in bed?” she took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eyes, “you tell me.”

Stannis was looking flustered and more than a little astonished.

Sansa felt herself blushing. Now that her frustration had passed, she felt terribly embarrassed about her outburst. Still, she made herself continue to look at him, stubbornly owning her words. Everything she had said was true.

When he just sat there, looking astonished, Sansa fidgeted and decided to say more.

“Why would I want to take a chance on someone who is probably immature, and not nearly as interesting, when I can have you?” She kissed his cheek, and rested her head on his shoulder.

He shifted to put an arm around her, holding her to his side. They were both silent for a while.

“Good,” he finally said. “I may not ever let you leave now that you’ve told me this,” he rasped, a slight warning in his tone.

“If I ever want to leave, I won’t ask for your permission,” Sansa replied, feeling assertive, “but the way I feel now, you can keep me for as long as you like,” she added with a grin.

“I can accept those terms,” Stannis growled into her ear, pulling her back on top of him. She squealed a little in surprise, the sound morphing into a moan when he used his grip on her hips to grind her firmly down onto his erection.

“And you - you like me too, right?” she whispered into his ear, feeling a little vulnerable. It was a ridiculous question to ask with the evidence of his very positive feelings pressed intimately against her, but she had bared her feelings towards him, and she wanted to hear him say something in return. A part of her was hoping he’d say something along the lines of what he admitted to Davos.

“Too much,” he whispered back, the low octave of his voice making her shiver. “I just want to keep you to myself,” he admitted reluctantly, kissing her neck.

“Why?” she asked curiously, mirroring his own question from before. She was rocking herself against him, trying to use his hardness to hit the right spot. He thrust his hips up to meet her as much as he could, but mostly he used his hands to pull her even closer, increasing the pressure she was able to exert.

“Because I can’t stand the thought of you with anyone else. I hate it when other men so much as look at you. I want you to be mine only.” His words tumbled from his lips in an uncontrolled rush, his voice heated and possessive. His hands seemed to be everywhere at once, and she felt him suck on her neck, close to her shoulder, pulling hard at the skin. She knew it would leave a mark, and she was amazed at how much his dominant words and behaviour were affecting her. She felt like a quivering mess under his touch, moaning helplessly, completely inflamed and full of need. She was also fairly certain her second pair of underwear of the day were already as soaked as the first.

“I only want to be yours,” she managed to gasp out in between moans, squirming against him to create more friction where she desperately needed it.

He kissed her and stood up in one fluid motion, taking her with him. She clamped her legs around him and grabbed him around the neck for balance. He was holding on to her thighs as before, fingers digging into her soft skin almost painfully. She didn’t care, because he was walking them into his bedroom. On the way, her shoes fell off, and she did not mind in the least.

He used a foot to push the door all the way open, and he didn’t bother to close it behind them. They were alone in the apartment, after all. The room was lit by a single lamp, and the light that trickled in from the hallway. It was a dim, comfortable amount of light, Sansa thought.

He gently lowered her onto the bed so that she was lying on her back, hovering over her on his hands and knees, kissing her deeply. She wondered what he was going to do, and realised that she had absolutely no willpower left to deny him if he asked to try something new. Not now that she was becoming so sure of her feelings, and not forgetting his admission to Davos that he had never felt this way for anyone else before.

She wanted him. All of him.

Sansa whimpered in protest when he crawled off the bed, leaving her with her heart beating wildly, her lungs working overtime and the skirt of her dress pushed all the way up around her hips. He looked at her with dark, appreciative eyes, and got on his knees on the floor in front of the bed. Then he grabbed her under her knees and pulled her towards him until he was kneeling between her thighs. He looked at her intently, and asked for her permission in a hoarse whisper “May I?”

She got up on her elbows to be able to look at him properly. She’d never seen him look more attractive than right at that moment. It was because of the way he was looking at her -- almost as if in supplication. It was a heady feeling, to have him look at her that way, and she wondered what he must be seeing when he looked up at her. She probably looked a sight, her hair wild around her face, her lips swollen, her face and chest flushed. She didn’t care. “Y-Yes.” Her voice was breathless and a little shaky, but she met his eyes, trying to show him that she was sure.

He did not need to be told twice, already pulling her underwear off. He needed to move back a little in order to get the lacy fabric over her knees and all the way off, but he was back so fast that Sansa barely noticed. For a moment he just looked at her most intimate parts, making Sansa feel rather self-conscious and exposed. She closed her eyes so that she wouldn’t see him staring. However, she could still hear him, and the way his every other breath was hitching was making her ache for him to do _something_ already.

He made a sound that might have been a strangled word, but she couldn’t make it out.

The feeling of his mouth on her was shocking. She jumped slightly in surprise, and his hands came up to grab her thighs, keeping her still where he wanted her. His stubble was starting to grow back, and his face felt rough against the soft, sensitive skin of her inner thighs. But his lips were very soft, and his mouth felt much hotter on her than his fingers ever had! His breath was so warm, and his tongue - _Gods_ \- what was he doing with his tongue? It was the strangest and most amazing feeling she had ever experienced. 

He seemed to be taking his time about this, lapping lazily at her, mapping her with his flattened tongue. She wanted to squirm and get _more_ , but his grip on her thighs was unforgiving, and she didn’t want to risk making him stop. He kept going, so steadily that it was driving her mad, for what seemed like an eternity. She felt like he was winding her up tighter and tighter, always just barely passing by the place that gave her the most pleasure. Every time he got close she moaned and tried to prolong the contact, but he kept it ruthlessly fleeting.

Since she couldn’t move her lower body, she settled for moving her head from side to side, reaching for the pillows at the head of the bed, pulling them to her and holding on to them, grabbing the bedspread desperately, and writhing about in frustration.

“Stannis, _please_!” she finally cried out, when she thought that she would break if he wound her up any tighter.

His response was lightning quick, as if he’d just been waiting for her words, and Sansa cursed herself for not having thought of begging sooner. His mouth moved to just the right place, and now he was focusing just _there_ , his tongue hot and exerting just the right amount of pressure, and moving just quickly enough to push her over the edge. She covered her face with a pillow, screaming into it as an intense wave of searing heat tore its way through her, starting where his mouth was still moving over her, and flooding her with sensation in every direction. Her toes felt numb. Her head felt fuzzy and vague.

She moved the pillow away from her face, needing to breathe.

Still, he didn’t stop. Suddenly he _sucked_ on the spot he had be lathing, and she immediately came again, her ecstatic screams no longer muffled. Somewhere in the back of her mind she wondered if Stannis had any neighbours, and if they could hear her... 

It didn’t matter. Let them.

Her body fell limp and Stannis no longer had to hold her thighs to keep her from moving. She _couldn’t_ move. He was still doing something with his lips and his tongue, and she was glad that it was very gentle, because she had never felt quite as highly sensitised down there. She shuddered with aftershocks, feeling like she could easily stay like this forever.

Eventually he moved away. She whimpered and pouted at the loss of him, but did not move or even open her eyes. She felt too wonderful to bother with such things. Instead she listened as he moved around the room, picking up a glass of water from the nightstand and drinking from it, going into the washroom briefly, and coming back out. When he sat down next to her, leaning back on his elbows so that his face was relatively close to hers, she decided to at least open her eyes.

He was looking at her with a self-satisfied look on his face, obviously feeling rather proud of himself for rendering her so helpless with pleasure. She attempted to smile at him, but it probably ended up looking more like a lazy smirk. Especially since her eyes were only half open.

“Hi,” she whispered, her voice a little raw from screaming.

The corners of his mouth moved up, and an amused glint appeared in his eyes. “Hello.”

“My dress is very wrinkled,” Sansa told him, as if she were confiding a secret.

“I had noticed,” he replied, solemnly.

“Help me take it off?” She tried to widen her eyes innocently, but her eyelids felt too heavy. He nodded at her and stood up. Then he pulled her into a sitting position so that he could reach the zipper. She helped him the best she could, but rather enjoyed letting him manhandle her a little with his strong, clever hands. He was very gentle about it.

He asked her to put her hands up, and she managed that on her own. He pulled the dress over her head, leaving her again in just her bra and stockings. She was sick of her bra, wanting out of its confines, so she pushed the straps off her shoulders meaningfully, hoping he would undo the clasp for her. He noticed, and looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “Shall I…?” he trailed off, and she nodded firmly. He deftly undid the clasp of her bra with one hand, and it fell away. She threw it on the floor and flopped backwards, lying down with her legs still dangling off the edge. She kind of wanted to move properly up to the bed, but she was still not back to full functionality.

Stannis seemed to read her mind, and wormed one arm underneath her back, and put the other under her knees. Then he picked her up and placed her properly on the bed, with her head on a pillow. If she hadn’t been on top of the bedspread she would probably have pulled the covers over herself and happily gone to sleep. Instead, she shivered a little, getting cold.

“Would you like me to take these off as well?” Stannis asked, fingering the lace of her stockings pleasantly. She definitely liked his voice more than anything, she decided. Especially the way he used it when they were alone, and _doing things._ It got so deep and husky and wonderful. She could listen to it forever.

“Yes, please,” she whispered politely, letting her eyes drift closed so she could better enjoy the feel of his fingers as they slowly rolled the stockings down her legs. First one, then the other. When they were off he stroked her calves, lingering at the back of her knees - almost tickling her - then he ran his hands over the front of her thighs, his thumbs brushing the insides lightly. She was still so sensitive from before that she got goosebumps, and sighed with pleasure. His hands continued their upward journey, passing over her abdomen and pausing at her breasts. He pinched her nipples lightly, and jolts of heat shot through her. Then he bent to take one into his mouth, and her eyes rolled into the back of her head at the hot, overwhelming sensation. All thoughts of being cold disappeared from her head.

Sansa had discovered a long time ago that it felt good when her nipples were touched the right way. It was as if there was a direct connection between her nipples and her intimate parts, which could be manipulated to heighten her pleasure to a certain degree. Stannis seemed to know this, and was making shameless use of this knowledge. He alternated between using his mouth and his fingers, occasionally focusing all his attention on just one nipple, sometimes both at once. As always, he was careful not to pinch too hard or overstimulate her. It was enough to build her need up again, making her crave his touch between her legs, even though she was still sensitive and a little addle-brained from her last orgasms. 

She moaned incoherently and wondered where he was going with these touches. She was starting to feel a little selfish for just letting him pleasure her, and not even thinking about what he might like. It was just so easy to let him take control and do what he wanted.

When he moved up to kiss her neck, the haze of pleasure that had been blocking her brain activity cleared a little, and she felt able to make words.

“What are we doing?” she asked, sounding idly curious and highly satisfied.

Stannis had moved to lie next to her while he kissed her neck and caressed her skin here and there. His hand stilled, and he moved up to his elbow so that he could look at her properly. 

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked seriously.

“No!” Sansa blurted. She blushed when he raised an eyebrow at her. “I don’t want to stop, I just wondered, you know, are you - do you need - do you want me to…?” She had no idea what she was asking or what she was offering. She hoped Stannis would figure something out.

“I want a lot of things, as I’m sure you know,” he spoke deceptively calmly, only a hint of restraint in his tone, “however, I think I’ve already pushed you further than I probably should have tonight.” He didn’t sound like he regretted it per-se, only a little guilty.

“It was good. I liked it,” Sansa said, kissing him to emphasise her words. She did not want him to feel guilty for no reason.

“I’m fairly sure most of the people in the building are aware that you liked it,” he replied smugly. She felt herself blush at his words and glared at him halfheartedly.

“Don’t tease,” she pouted.

He kissed her, licking her lower lip until her pout turned into a smile.

“Sometimes I’m not entirely sure whether I am pressuring you, or whether things are moving at their own pace,” he confessed, sounding worried.

“I don’t feel pressured. Well, except by myself, really. Or part of myself. Do you ever feel like one part of you wants something, but another part is not sure?” Sansa babbled, feeling like she was not explaining herself very well. What she was trying to explain was that her body was willing, ready and eager, but her mind needed to be put at rest before she could let go. Right now her mind was actually pretty quiet, only a tiny, nagging voice at the back of her head protested the idea of letting him go as far as he pleased.

The voice wanted to be reassured beyond a doubt that he loved her, and that she loved him. _’Being almost sure is not enough’_ , it seemed to say.

Stannis huffed out a self-deprecating laugh. “I think it’s safe to say I understand,” he said and shifted slightly so that she could feel his erection against her thigh. 

Oh. _Right._

Should she tell him what she needed to know before she would be ready to progress further? She was certain that he would not lie about his feelings to get what he wanted, but she didn’t want to pressure him into revealing feelings he was still unsure of, either.

“It’s just -” Sansa paused. She was on the precipice of telling him, but faltered. “You’ll think I’m silly.”

“Perhaps. I won’t know unless you tell me what it is,” he said reasonably. She wondered how he could sound so calm and reasonable when he was so obviously aroused.

There was a long pause and Sansa debated with herself, going back and forth about ten times, wanting to talk about love, but also afraid of rejection.

“I promised myself I wouldn’t go all the way with anyone unless I loved them,” she finally blurted without daring to look at Stannis. Then she took a deep breath, swallowed, and continued, “and unless they loved me in return.” She closed her eyes, cringing slightly. Why had she said it? She should have just kept quiet!

She felt his fingertips touching her cheek lightly. She opened one eye to peer at him. He had that amused glint in his eyes again, but mixed with a softer, more tender emotion.

“Ah, well now you have placed me in a difficult position,” he said thoughtfully. “If I confess my love, you will surely suspect me of merely being opportunistic,” he continued to stroke her cheek gently, and she opened her other eye to look at him properly, “if I say that I am unsure of my feelings, it would not be the whole truth,” he kissed her gently, “and if I deny being in love, it would be a lie.”

Sansa’s eyes widened at his words, and her heart started beating so fast that she thought she might faint. Had he just told her that he loved her in a weird round-about way?

Hearing him say it made her absolutely sure that she loved him. There was no way her feelings made any sense if they were not love. It was just like in all the songs! He made her knees weak, and her heart race, and her body shiver. He was all she thought about, and the first person she wanted to talk to when she woke up. He understood her, and she understood him, and she just wanted to spend every free moment in his company. 

Her throat constricted, and she felt happy tears gathering in her eyes. She had been waiting to fall in love for what felt like her whole life. She couldn’t believe it was happening. She couldn’t believe how _amazing_ it was.

“I know you’d never lie to me,” Sansa said happily when she finally felt able to speak. Sniffing a little to keep from crying all over him. _Stupid overactive tear ducts._

He kissed her again, unhurriedly and lovingly, his hand stroking her hair.

“And you… ?” Stannis started asking a question, but then he looked a little chagrined and trailed off. Sansa looked at him in confusion for a moment before she realised that she hadn’t said anything about her feelings for him yet. She hurried to rectify this.

“I am very much in love with you, Stannis,” she whispered, blushing furiously, but making herself meet his eyes anyway.

She had thought he must have expected her to say this, but it looked like she was wrong on that count. He looked absolutely floored by her confession. He stared at her, dumbfounded, blinking rapidly and swallowing convulsively.

“You - you are?” he asked faintly, disbelief evident in his tone.

“Yes!” she giggled. He really was too endearing sometimes. “I think I’ve been falling for you ever since I noticed that you’re not so grumpy, really,” she explained thoughtfully.

“I am very grumpy,” he argued, looking only a little convinced by her words.

“Not when you’re with me.” Sansa moved her thigh deliberately. He sucked in a deep breath in response. “You’re very nice to me,” she added sweetly.

“I don’t know why. All you do is torment me.” He narrowed his eyes at her, glaring. She could tell that he wasn’t being serious, so she just laughed.

“Well, we can’t have that. What can I do to end your torment?” she asked, half joking, half sincere.

He looked at her, amused at first, but his eyes widened slightly when he saw that she was being sincere. They widened even further when he must have remembered what she had said she’d be willing to do, provided she was in a mutually loving relationship. He searched her eyes, obviously wondering if he was drawing the correct conclusions, and she tried her best to look confident and certain. She even gave him a tiny nod, just to make sure.

He closed his eyes tightly, opened them again to stare at her, and then closed them again.

Sansa could see that she would have to do something to snap him out his shocked disbelief. She decided to sit up and start undressing him. There was something ridiculous about being naked in bed with a fully clothed man. Well, nearly fully clothed. He had taken his suit jacket and his tie off at some point, the top few buttons of his shirt were undone, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows.

When he noticed her undoing the rest of his buttons, he opened his eyes and kept them open. He didn’t move to help her, content to watch her fiddle with the surprisingly stubborn little things. She didn’t let it get to her, quietly working at her task until every button had succumbed to her will. Without stopping to appreciate the view his open shirt provided her with, she went straight for his belt, but his hand covered hers, halting her progress before she managed to get it unbuckled.

“We don’t have to do anything right now,” Stannis said, looking like it cost him something very dear.

Sansa smiled at him and decided to tease him a little. “All right. I guess I should be heading home then?” She used her sweetest tone of voice, and tilted her head to the side.

She could see his jaw clenching and relaxing repeatedly, and he gave her a very suspicious look. Trying to keep a straight face was just about killing her, so she looked away, pretending to be glancing at the floor in search of her clothes.

“You don’t have to leave right away, do you?” he asked, sounding genuinely dejected. It sent a pang of guilt through her, and she couldn’t resist looking at him again. That had been a mistake. He was looking at her shrewdly now, obviously noticing her guilty expression. Had he made himself sound so miserable on purpose? To make her feel sorry for teasing him? Sansa covered her mouth with a hand, trying to contain the giggles that were about to burst out of her.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it!” her shoulder shook with suppressed laughter.

“Minx,” he said affectionately, pulling her down on top of him for kiss. It felt nice to feel his warm, bare skin against her, now that his shirt was open.

Some time later, when the kiss broke, Sansa sat up again. “You really think I’d want to leave?” She shook her head a little. _Now?_ ”

Stannis sat up too. “Well, a few days ago you were saying you weren’t ready.” He shrugged a little helplessly.

“A few days ago I didn’t know what I was feeling,” Sansa explained. _Wasn’t that obvious?_ “I’ve been physically ready to do everything with you pretty much since our first kiss. I just needed to sort out my feelings. Now they’re sorted,” Sansa continued, sounding much more confident than she felt. She was more nervous than ever, and her palms were starting to feel clammy and uncomfortable because of it.

Stannis got up from the bed and went to hang his shirt. She smiled at his neatness. The contrast between her clothes - crumpled up and thrown here and there around the room - and his clothes - neatly put away in their proper place - was very stark.

When he turned to face her again, his hands at his belt, she felt a fresh wave of heat roll through her at the sight. His dark blue eyes were almost completely black, and he was raking them across her body slowly. His hands were deliberately unbuckling his belt as he drank her in, the buckle loosening after just a few practised and efficient movements.

Sansa shuddered involuntarily, feeling suddenly very aware of how much her body was crying out for his touch. She tried to fidget unobtrusively, seeking a little bit of friction. Judging by the small smirk that appeared on his face, he noticed. She stopped trying to do it unobtrusively in favour of shamelessly squirming under his gaze. She saw his Adam’s apple bob up and down in response.

He continued to deliberately put away his clothes as they came off. First rolling up his belt and placing it in a small drawer in the closet. His socks went in the hamper. Then he was undoing his fly and stepping out of his trousers, folding them and putting them away too. Dressed only in boxer briefs which did little to hide his considerable interest in her, he joined her on the bed, sitting down next to her.

Stannis kissed her neck, making her shiver. “I believe you asked what you could do to end my torment,” he whispered in her ear, in that husky voice she loved so much.

“Yes?” She felt excited, nervous and impatient all at once.

Instead of saying anything, he reached over her lap to pull at the thigh further from him, using his other hand to turn her around so that she ended up straddling him. His underwear was the only barrier between them. She let out a surprised sound at the sudden change in their positions, but she definitely liked being wrapped around him so intimately. Stannis kissed her deeply, running his hands through her hair and down her back, dragging his incredibly short fingernails over her skin pleasantly.

“If you would be so kind, perhaps you might finish getting me undressed?” he asked politely when he had finishing kissing her thoroughly.

Feeling a little unsteady, and hopelessly turned on, she stumbled out his lap so that she could take his boxers off. He moved to lie down properly, pulling his legs up onto the bed completely. She knelt next to him and tentatively reached for the waistband of his underwear. He watched her with his dark eyes, his face almost passive as it was so relaxed. Had his gaze not been utterly smoldering, she might have believed him to be indifferent to what was happening. Feeling very aware of his eyes, she started to pull at the strained cotton. It did not take long for his cock to spring free, and she felt a renewed flutter of nerves at the sight. _Would that really fit inside of her? Would it hurt?_

She closed her eyes for a second, determined not to worry about it. Then she continued to pull the garment down, shifting on her knees to follow it all the way down his legs. When the boxer briefs were off she dropped them on the floor carelessly, strangely glad that at least one item of his clothing was joining her things and not being put away neatly. 

Sansa looked at his face, not knowing whether she was seeking his approval, or asking him with her eyes what she should do next. Maybe a bit of both?

Stannis just stared at her with that dark, heated look in his eyes, so she decided to lie down next to him. She crawled towards the head of the bed on her hands and knees, settling against him, feeling a little like an affectionate cat. From the way his jaw tensed, he liked the view.

“Do you feel better now?” she asked after she had molded herself to him, enjoying the feeling of naked skin against naked skin, warm and satisfying.

“A little,” he acknowledged. He moved so that he was half on top of her, supporting most of his weight on one knee and elbow. Her heart had already been beating fast but now it was _hammering_.

Sansa’s nerves were really acting up now, making her feel both hot and cold, slightly clammy, and uncomfortably dry in the mouth. _Was this really happening?_

She felt Stannis move his hand to rest on her hip. He let his fingertips make random little patterns on her skin, inching his way from her hip to her thigh, until he was stroking her inner thigh with the palm of his hand. Sansa quivered a little at the touch, and held her breath as he experimentally made his way to her centre, finding her damp and a little sensitive from his previous ministrations. He started to touch her more rhythmically, just as he had done many times before.

His familiar touch put her at ease, allowing her to forget her nerves for the time being. Her pleasure started to build, and she really enjoyed it when he started to add fingers. She was so sensitive everywhere on the outside, but inside she was still craving _more_. He seemed to notice that she preferred him to focus only on using his fingers, and it she was certain that it excited him. His eyes were flashing with lust, and he was breathing very heavily as he pumped three fingers in and out of her.

It was starting to feel _really_ good, and she was in the middle of moaning in appreciation, when he abruptly withdrew. Her moan turned into a plaintive noise, but he kissed her and swallowed the sound. Then he used a knee to nudge her legs apart, making more room so that he could settle himself between her thighs. She could feel his erection sliding against her, and it felt even better than his hand ever had. It was so pleasantly blunt and firm. Stannis spent a few moments just rubbing against her like that, and seemed to enjoy it almost as much as she was. His eyes were closed, and his brow was furrowed in concentration, and he was letting out small gasps of pleasure.

He shifted eventually, using his hand to guide the head of his cock to her entrance. Again it felt much more pleasant than fingers. Fingers almost seemed sharp in comparison with the nicely rounded, blunt shape she could feel now. Despite how good it felt, Sansa’s nerves returned with a vengeance. She felt herself tense up even though she was trying to relax, and she started to breathe in short, shallow gasps. Before Stannis had a chance to say anything to soothe her nerves, she remembered that she wasn’t actually on birth control yet, and they should probably be using a condom.

She put a hand on his chest, pushing him away slightly, and he responded by immediately rolling off her.

He looked at her from his new position beside her, surprised bewilderment evident on his face, every muscle in his body tense. 

“We’re not using protection!” she yelped to explain herself.

His eyes widened almost comically, and then he closed them briefly and raised his eyebrows at the same time in an expression of pure dismay.

“Thank you for reminding me. I really should have been the one to… “ he started to awkwardly apologise, but trailed off when she just smiled at him.

“It’s fine, as long as one of us remembers I think we’re okay,” she giggled nervously, “a few weeks from now it won’t matter. I’m going on the pill.” She thought he should probably know about that. She had seen Dr. Luwin a few days ago, and he’d given her a prescription which she had filled at the pharmacy the same day. She just had to wait for her period to start so she could take the first pill.

Stannis sat up and sighed. “I don’t think I have any condoms.”

He looked as if he were trying very hard not to grind his teeth in annoyance, while also attempting to fix a neutral expression onto his face. Additionally, there was something in his eyes that told her he would probably be swearing creatively if she weren’t there to hear.

Sansa got up on her elbows and watched him with interest, curious what he would do. Her thoughts drifted to the car ride with Margaery earlier that day, and the pack of condoms that her friend had insisted on embarrassing her with.

Margaery had stuffed the packet into Sansa’s suitcase with a grin. “I have a feeling you should be prepared for _anything_ tonight. Trust me, I read your horoscope.”

It was not the first time Sansa suspected her friend of being psychic, or at least somehow stacking the deck in her favour. Maybe she was just really good at reading people?

Stannis was running a hand though his hair a little desperately, doing his best not to look at her.

“I could go to the pharmacy?” he suggested, obviously not thrilled with the idea of leaving her for even five minutes, much less the fifteen it would probably take at least -- depending on how close they were to the next pharmacy that stayed open late.

Sansa hummed noncommittally. She got up from the bed and walked to her suitcase, wondering if Stannis was still trying to avoid looking at her. She tried to walk attractively just in case. She rummaged through the contents of the bag, easily finding the shiny box. She glanced at the information on the packet and raised her eyebrows. Twenty-four condoms? Margaery sure didn’t do things be halves…

Sansa turned around, hiding the box behind her back and walked back to the bed. Stannis had his eyes closed, apparently thinking.

“Maybe you could go to the pharmacy,” Sansa said to get his attention, “or we could just use one of these.” She showed him the box when he opened his eyes in response to her words.

“Where did you - ?” Stannis looked at the box, and then at her, nonplussed.

“Margaery,” Sansa said simply, “she gave them to me on our way here in the car. She also kept playing Neil Diamond and Foreigner songs and told me that my horoscope said I should be prepared for anything tonight. She is so weird.” She shrugged, amused exasperation in her voice.

“Remind me to send her flowers,” Stannis quipped, grabbing her around the waist and kissing her passionately.

They ended up lying back down, kissing and touching for a while longer. Sansa didn’t really mind the delay as she was still quite nervous, but she could sense that Stannis was very wound up. He didn’t say anything, but there was a tension in his shoulders that wasn’t usually there when he was kissing her, and she could feel his hands shaking a little. It was rather flattering to see him in such a state, and she wondered what he must be thinking.

She tried to read his thoughts by looking in his eyes. There seemed to be a lot going on with him. She was pretty certain about the love and lust he was broadcasting, but there was also something akin to panic or fear, buried just a little under the surface. Maybe he was nervous too?

When he extracted himself from her embrace to sit up and remove a foil packet from the box, Sansa watched him with interest. She had only touched a condom once, in her tenth grade health class. She remembered how she and her friends had giggled hysterically at having to put one on a banana. Ever since, she had wondered what it would be like to put a condom on a person, not a fruit.

Stannis had just removed the rubbery circle from the packet. “Can I do it?” she asked without thinking. He looked at her in slight surprise, but nodded and handed her the condom and shifted to lie back down on the bed.

Thinking back to her health class, she remembered that she was supposed to first determine in which direction the condom rolled. She used her fingers to figure this out, unrolling it just a little to see which way it went. She noticed that the condom was very slippery. It had to be covered in some sort of lubricant, she thought. With the right direction found, she moved to kneel next to his hips, so that she wouldn’t have to reach too far, and so she could look at what she was doing. Stannis got up on his elbows and watched her with heavy lidded eyes. Lust now, definitely lust.

Sansa strained her memory. She was supposed to make sure the man was fully erect before attempting to roll the condom on. Sansa bit her lip to keep from smiling in amusement. _Check._

She pinched the top of the condom - she remembered something about air bubbles being bad - and started to slowly roll the condom over him. Stannis groaned quietly at her touch, watching her heatedly and grabbing onto the bedspread by the fistful.

She felt her own body respond to seeing him like this. She became even more aware of the ache between her thighs, and she felt her breathing deepening and slowing, her face heating up and tingling faintly.

She finished rolling the condom on, moving her hand over him to make sure there were no air bubbles.

“All done!” she said brightly, trying to cover up her nerves by acting cheerful.

Stannis reached for her with one hand, his abdomen taut, muscles straining to compensate for the fact that he was only supporting himself with one elbow now. He pulled her down next to him and rolled on top of her, his arms and knees taking most of his weight. Her thighs parted reflexively for him, and she could already feel him, encased as he was in slippery latex, nudging against her entrance.

It was all moving so quickly! Now there would be no further delays. She _wanted_ this. She was just scared of the unknown. _What if it hurt? What if it hurt? What if it hurt?_

She was breathing fast again, and tensing up. This time Stannis was able to respond.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispered soothingly. He seemed content to just rub himself against her, and Sansa couldn’t argue with how good that felt. “I will tell you when I’m going to start to move, and you are going to relax,” he continued, and she focused on his affectionate husky voice, feeling herself calm down at the sound of it.

He kissed her, and she remembered that she loved him, and that he loved her. This was just a way of sharing in each other. It was meant to feel good, and there was nothing to be frightened of, because he would never hurt her.

“I love you,” she whispered, trying to open her thighs a little more.

He made a gasping, choked sort of sound, and his hips jerked forward a little. The movement caused the head of his erection to press very firmly against her entrance, and Sansa was sure that now it would just take longer, more insistent push and he would be inside of her.

“I love you too, Sansa,” he gasped out. His entire body seemed to be straining, every muscle standing out in sharp relief under his skin. He kissed her again, tenderly and softly -- almost apologetically. “I’m going to start moving now, very slowly. Try to relax. This shouldn’t hurt. Tell me if it does and I’ll stop. I promise.” His voice was so rough and breathless, but she knew he was being absolutely sincere.

Sansa took a deep breath and tried to think welcoming, open thoughts. This shouldn’t be just about him penetrating her, it should also be about her, accepting him. There was harmony in this, Sansa thought.

He started to press forward slowly, just as he had said. Sansa had to focus intently on relaxing and angling her hips towards him, because this strange invasion was making her want to tense up defensively and push him away. She thought back to how he had used his fingers to imitate this act, and remembered how she had adjusted to them. His cock was bigger than his fingers, but it was ideally shaped for this, and she was designed to adjust -- If she could just keep relaxing.

She looked at Stannis, trying to distract herself, and saw that he had closed his eyes tightly in concentration. There was a film of perspiration on his forehead, and his jaw was clenched tighter than ever. If she weren’t sure that what he was doing was definitely not supposed to hurt him, she would have assumed he was in pain.

He must have felt her looking at him because he opened his eyes to meet hers.

“Are you all right?” he asked hoarsely, baring his teeth briefly.

“I think so. It feels strange, and a little uncomfortable, but not painful” She blew out a slow deliberate breath, doing her best to keep her muscles from tensing.

“You’re so tight,” he gasped in between harsh, fast breaths.

Something about the way he said it created a fresh wave of heat within her, and she moved her hips reflexively, her body finally getting with the program and trying to encourage him to enter her fully. Relaxing was getting easier, and the strange invasive sensation was fading to make way for a powerfully satisfying feeling of fullness. She moaned and wrapped her hands around him, pulling him to her.

He groaned and pushed forward the rest of the way in one smooth movement, sheathing himself fully.

Sansa could not believe how _physical_ it felt. The strain of keeping her thighs so widely apart, the warmth of his body pressed against her, the slightly scratchy feeling of the hairs at the base of his cock, and most intense of all -- the feeling of being stretched and filled. She had been imagining what sex might feel like for years, and nothing she had thought of came even close. She had always sort of imagined the feeling of having something pressed firmly and intimately against her, but _more._ It was a little like that, she supposed, but still completely different. This was like nothing she had ever felt. She experimentally squeezed her inner muscles around him, and noted that it felt very interesting and sort of satisfying.

Stannis made a strangled sound and rocked his hips against her. That sent the first jolt of real pleasure through her. It was faint, and not as overwhelming as when he had been using his mouth on her, but deeper. So much deeper. She wanted more of it. But Stannis had stopped moving again, even though it looked like it was costing him a lot of effort to keep still.

“It’s okay, I’m fine - you can move,” she said in case Stannis was waiting for her word.

He kissed her deeply. “Let me know if it’s too much,” he looked her in the eyes seriously, and she nodded, agreeing that she would.

Stannis started moving carefully, pulling out a little way and then thrusting back in firmly. They were shallow, slow thrusts, and Sansa thought they were quite nice. She tried to meet him by rocking her hips in the same rhythm, closing her eyes to focus better, and that felt very good too. The deep, pleasurable feeling was building, but much more slowly than her pleasure usually built. She was starting to understand what Margaery meant when she said men needed to be able to last for long enough to be _‘useful’_. It would probably take her a while to reach any kind of release this way.

She opened her eyes to look at Stannis again. He was resting on his elbows above her, so his face was not very far away.

He no longer looked like he was in pain, although he still looked strained, the muscles in his neck and jaw completely tense. His eyes were closed, and his lips slightly parted to reveal clenched teeth. His breathing was much louder than normal. Again he seemed to feel her eyes on him.

“Still okay?” he asked, slowing down and giving her a concerned look, swallowing noticeably. Everything about him spoke of restraint, and Sansa wondered if she shouldn’t be asking him if _he_ was okay.

“Yes, it’s good.” Sansa smiled at him. She was fairly certain that it could be better, somehow. She wanted to try to move around and see if there was a way to get that deep, coiling pleasure to build faster. She thought about it, and remembered how Stannis had changed her position when he had been imitating sex with his hand. “Can we try something?” she asked before he began to speed up again.

Instead of explaining what she wanted with words, she pulled her legs towards her chest, bending them at the knee. Cradling him like this gave him better access, and changed the angle significantly. He made a sound that she was starting to associate with his pleasure, even though it mostly reminded her of someone getting punched -- a sort of out of breath groan.

“Is it okay if I go faster?” he managed to ask despite his apparent breathing difficulties.

“Yes. A little harder, too,” Sansa told him, wondering if it would feel as good as she hoped.

He made a grateful sort of moaning sound that sent another wave of arousal pulsing through her. A heated kiss later he started to pull out further than he had before. Then he suddenly plunged himself back in, fast and _hard._ Sansa cried out in surprise at the jolt she felt, but immediately told him to keep going so that he wouldn’t stop to worry about her. This angle felt much better than the first one!

With an intense look of concentration he experimented a little, pulling out to varying degrees, thrusting back in at different speeds, sometimes less forcefully, sometimes more. Sansa tried to let him know when he did something she really liked, and after a little while, they found a delicious rhythm. She always tried to move with him, meeting and complementing his movements. It was almost reflexive, as if her body just instinctively knew what to do.

She closed her eyes, trying to hold on to those jolts of pleasure that were coming consistently now. It wasn’t quite enough, however, and she was nowhere near her peak. She knew she’d need much more time, but she could hear Stannis start to pant. He was probably close. Did he want to go faster? Could she handle anything more than what they were already doing? Maybe if he went faster she would catch up?

_Only one way to find out._

She knew how much he liked it when she begged for more, so she decided to plead instead of giving permission. He might hesitate if she just told him he could go faster if he wanted, but if she begged for more, she doubted he’d have any qualms with complying.

Hoping that she’d be able to handle it, she moaned his name to get is attention. “Stannis, please - I need more.” She tightened her hold on his back meaningfully.

He made a strangled sound that she thought might have been her name, and immediately sped up, thrusting harder than before.

At first it sent even more lusty jolts of pleasure through her, but it quickly became a little bit painful. Sansa liked the sounds he was making too much to stop him, however, and she could tell he was nearly there. His thrusts were becoming erratic and his breathing was coming out as a series of half finished swear words and grunts. 

“Ah! - _Fu -_ Sans - _ah!_ \- Fu - uh -”

It was a powerful feeling to see him like this, all restraint gone from his face, replaced with a strangely twisted grimace of pure pleasure. She could bear a little soreness for his sake, she thought. It was worth it.

The last few thrusts were so forceful that Sansa couldn’t keep her startled gasps from escaping. She wasn’t sure if he could hear her in the state he was in. He came with a sound that she could only describe as a roar, bursting forth from deep in his chest. It made her clench her inner muscles involuntarily in response, and she gasped again at the sensation.

She wondered whether she would have been able to feel the heat of his release if he hadn’t been wearing a condom. The sticky liquid always felt so hot when he came all over her hand.

He rocked against her a few times, resting his forehead against hers. They were both covered in a sheen of sweat, so their skin stuck together a little unpleasantly. He was still inside of her, and her thighs were starting to ache at the undignified position she had placed them in. Sansa didn’t care about any of it.

She was definitely no longer a virgin.

They stayed still for a few long moments, their breathing slowing down, their heart rates returning to normal.

Stannis was the first to move, unsticking their foreheads and reaching down to hold the condom in place as he pulled out of her. Sansa lowered her thighs gratefully, feeling strangely empty and suddenly quite sore. It was a very hot and slightly pulsating feeling. She wanted to press something soft between her legs to make it feel better. She thought longingly of a pillow.

She closed her eyes and listened as Stannis got the rid of the condom, tying it off and throwing it into the bin next to his nightstand. He came back to her right away, putting and arm around her and pulling her back flush against his chest.

“How are you feeling?” He asked her attentively, his nose close to her neck.

Sansa debated with herself over whether she should tell him the truth or just say that she was fine. She didn’t want him to feel bad, but she didn’t want to lie by omission either.

“I’m all right. Just a little sore. Everyone says that’s normal, though.” Sansa tried to sound bright and matter of fact, but a note of vulnerability somehow snuck in there. Even though she was the one who asked him to go faster, even though she decided not to stop him when it started to burn, she still kind of wanted him to say that he was sorry. It didn’t make any sense, but her feelings were just suddenly all over the place.

“Sansa, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so rough in the end,” he sounded awfully guilty. That somehow made her feel even worse. She didn’t want him to feel guilty!

“It’s okay, I asked you to,” Sansa stubbornly maintained, having no idea where she wanted the conversation to go anymore.

“I shouldn’t have listened,” he argued, tightening his hold on her protectively, “is there anything I can do to make you feel better now?”

Sansa thought about it. She still quite wanted that pillow. And it would be nice if he could stroke her hair and her back. Could she just ask for that?

“Could we turn down the bed and get under the covers? I’m getting a little cold,” Sansa began, deciding to make her requests in steps.

Stannis responded by getting up, and helping her stand up too. Her legs felt like jello, so she was glad when he was quick about getting the bedspread off and turning down the covers so that they could crawl underneath.

“Could I use a spare pillow?” Sansa blushed, “it would feel good to have something soft between my legs,” she explained, feeling very embarrassed. He didn’t comment, just handed her a pillow. He had about six of them at the head of the bed, so she doubted he would miss it.

She made herself comfortable, lying on her side with the pillow between her legs. It felt cool and soothing against her, the pressure of it distracting from the soreness.

Before she had a chance to ask, Stannis started to comb through her hair with his fingertips.

“Mm, you read my mind,” she sighed happily, enjoying the pleasant drag of his fingertips across her scalp and down her neck.

He didn’t say anything in response, but settled himself comfortably beside her, obviously prepared to keep stroking her for as long as she wanted. It made her heart swell, and she felt almost overwhelmed with a surge of love and affection towards him.

“Was it - was it okay for you?” she asked shyly after a little while, remembering that he hadn’t actually said anything about it yet. She wanted to know what he thought of it.

“Gods, Sansa…” he sighed, “I don’t have the words.” He put an arm around her and held her tightly, kissing her neck tenderly. Sansa’s insides promptly turned to warm mush. He was speechless! What they had done had made him _speechless_. The soreness didn’t matter at all to her now.

“So, you liked it?” she asked teasingly, glowing with happiness.

He rose up so that he could give her a deep, lingering and very loving kiss. Sansa felt like she was being wrapped tightly in his care and affection for her, and it was _wonderful._

“It was a gift,” he whispered hoarsely into her ear, his warm breath tickling her. The depth of emotion he managed to convey with four short words made her heart beat faster and her stomach do flips.

“I love you,” she said, feeling like she had to put what she was feeling into words or she might burst.

Stannis responded by tightening his hold and whisperings words of love in her ear. She shivered, a little overcome, but pleasantly so. He was flush against her back, one arm around her middle, holding her to him. He started kissing her neck again after he spoke and Sansa felt drugged with pleasure and exhaustion. He kissed her for a while more, but then he moved to start stroking her hair and her back again -- soothing, reverent touches.

Sansa fell asleep some time later, feeling very safe, warm and loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! Am I right?
> 
> The songs Margaery plays for Sansa in the car are _Girl, You'll Be a Woman Soon_ by Neil Diamond and _I Want To Know What Love Is_ by Foreigner because she is hilarious and over the top like that. (If Stannis had been there too she would probably have played the Knack's _My Sharona_ for him. He would have glared and she would have cackled evilly.)


	21. Sunday

Stannis woke up feeling groggy and confused. Why was there music playing?

He listened intently. Yes, there was definitely a slightly tinny version of _Hungry Like the Wolf_ playing in his bedroom. He rolled over and bumped into an arm. _What in the -?_

Stannis shot into an upright position. Sansa was still in his _bed!_ She was supposed to be in _Winterfell!_ He distinctly remembered that she had not been given permission to spend the night with him. _Shit._

The song stopped playing.

He ran a hand through his hair and then down across his face, rubbing at his eyes.

He had not expected last night to go the way it had. Sansa allowing him to go down on her was more than he had dared to hope for. Admitting his feelings for her and having her confess to being in love with him in return was something he had been completely unprepared for. He still wasn’t sure if he believed her. How could someone like her ever love someone like him?

And then she had actually let him - how had she phrased it? - _’go all the way’._ He felt a tingling sort of shudder run down his spine. It was almost beyond his comprehension.

 _Gods, she had been so tight._ His cock twitched at the memory. So warm, so inviting, so soft and _wonderful._ Restraining the urge to let go of himself completely had been the hardest thing he had ever done, but at the same time it had been _easy_ because it was for her sake. For the sake of trying not to hurt her. 

Of course, he had slipped up at the end. She had been pleading for more and he had been _so close_ and it all just got a little out of hand… He winced at the memory of Sansa’s voice, telling him she was a little sore. She had sounded so vulnerable and he had felt like such an _arse._ He hadn’t even been able to tell her how much it had meant to him that she had trusted him to be her first -- just hadn’t been able to find the words! She deserved so much better. He sighed deeply.

At least he hadn’t embarrassed himself by coming the second he was inside of her. It had been so long since his last comparable sexual encounter that he was actually rather impressed with himself for lasting as long as he had. He’d love to think that his age and experience were to thank, but he suspected it was more due to the _two_ orgasms he’d had in the afternoon. … And probably the condom. Those things always dulled the sensation a little.

He made a mental note to pick more of those up the next time he was near a pharmacy. It really had been rather irresponsible of him to not keep any in the apartment. He just hadn’t expected things to progress to that level quite so soon! Selyse had always been on the pill, so he’d only ever had to think about condoms occasionally. Of course, Selyse had stopped taking the pill as soon as they got married - or so she said. He had recently started to suspect her of having stopped taking it as soon as they started sleeping together. Shireen had come along suspiciously fast after the wedding.

Stannis looked at Sansa, sleeping peacefully with her make-up all smudged and her hair a mess. He reached to move her hair aside when he noticed something dark on her neck. There looked to be an unsightly bruise there, close to her shoulder. He frowned, but then he remembered that he had been the one to leave the mark. Hopefully she would be able to cover it up.

Despite the make-up smudges and the messy hair, she looked more beautiful than any woman he’d ever seen. Should he wake her?

The song started playing again.

He looked around, trying to detect the source. He thought it might be coming from Sansa’s purse, but he wasn’t sure.

Sansa stirred beside him, letting out an annoyed moan. “Someone answer the phone,” she mumbled.

Of course it was her phone, Stannis realised. He quickly got up and dug the noisy thing out of her handbag. He looked at the screen and grimaced.

_Dad_

Should he answer it?

“Sansa, it’s your father calling,” he informed his half unconscious girlfriend, unable to make a decision.

Sansa stuck her hand out meaningfully. He went to sit back down on the bed, and dropped the singing device into her palm. Without looking at the screen, she swiped her finger across it to pick up the call. She brought it to her ear.

“Hi Dad,” she greeted sleepily.

Stannis couldn’t hear Eddard’s voice, but he could see Sansa wince.

“I know. I’m sorry. I accidentally fell asleep,” she explained, yawning.

She listened for a while, sitting up and piling pillows up behind her so that she could comfortably lean against the headboard.

“I said I was sorry, okay!” she sounded exasperated, and rolled her eyes.

Stannis wondered if he’d be on the other side of that phone call, talking to Shireen in a few years time. He cringed at the thought.

“Yes, he’s here,” Sansa said to her father, her tone resigned and annoyed. Then she handed Stannis her phone. “He wants to talk to you.”

Stannis took the phone slowly and reluctantly, as if the thing were white-hot and covered in slime besides, wishing he could throw it out the window rather than talk to Eddard. He didn’t do that, of course. That would be childish and absurd. He cleared the sleep from his voice and tried to speak in the most dignified way he could.

“Stannis speaking.”

“I am very disappointed, Stannis,” Eddard began, tone cold as ice, pulling no punches, “don’t think I’m not perfectly aware of what is going on,” he continued, ominously, “I had hoped you could be _trusted_ to wait until Sansa was a little older,” Eddard finished, twisting the knife in.

Stannis swallowed, feeling suddenly just as he had when his father had found him burning his best cigars -- very small and ashamed of himself.

Eddard did not give him a chance to apologise or defend himself. “I want her home. Immediately. Put Sansa back on.”

Stannis handed Sansa her phone back, unable to meet her eyes.

“Dad! What did you say to him?” Sansa asked hotly, obviously noticing how upset he was. He tried to school his features into a neutral mask, but still did not feel up to looking at her.

“Yes, it is my business!” Sansa argued.

There was a short silence while she listened, her face looking angrier and angrier.

“Don’t change the subject. And no, I’m not coming home right away. What does it matter if I stay a few hours longer?” She was almost hissing in fury.

Stannis couldn’t believe he’d been so careless. Allowing himself to fall asleep, forgetting to get Sansa back home on time, _almost_ having unprotected sex with her! This was not like him at all. He rubbed his face with both hands, wondering if he should ask Robert to talk to Eddard for him.

No, he’d never live that down.

“I’m eighteen! I’m in a real relationship. I’m going to occasionally want to sleep here. You are just going to have to deal with it.” Sansa ended the call without listening to a response.

She made a frustrated sound and threw her phone to the other side of the bed in disgust. “I don’t know where this overprotective crap is coming from! He’s usually so reasonable.”

“He’s just realised that you’re not his little girl anymore. He’s upset,” Stannis muttered, understanding all too well what Eddard had to be feeling.

“He didn’t freak out about me staying at the beach house, though,” Sansa argued, sounding sceptical.

“He probably thought Shireen being with us would prevent me - us - from doing anything,” Stannis reasoned, “he’s not a simpleton, he knows why you didn’t come come tonight.”

“He can’t know that,” Sansa snapped, but she sounded worried, “for all he knows we just passed out because we were tired.”

Stannis looked at her, raising an eyebrow. She blushed under his gaze.

“Okay, so maybe he knows. It’s still none of his business!” She crossed her arms in front of her, doing interesting things to her cleavage. He shook his head subtly. Remembering that she was naked under the covers would not help him right now.

“Of course it’s his business. You’re his daughter. He’s worried about you,” Stannis said, sighing. On whose side was he, anyway?

“Well, I’m fine,” Sansa said simply, “he has nothing to worry about.”

“In his mind you are far from being fine. You have been taken from him by a grumpy old man. A grumpy old man who has stolen your virtue. You’re in the worst kind of trouble.” He moved to sit next to her as he explained, and she rested her head on his shoulder.

“You’re not grumpy, and you’re not old,” Sansa kissed him on the jaw, “and who talks about _virtue_?” she laughed.

“Fathers always worry about their daughters’ virtue,” Stannis told her, “it’s required.”

“Well, he can’t have expected me to stay a sweet little virgin who lives at home with him forever.” Sansa rolled her eyes.

“Certainly not, but I’m sure he was hoping he could keep you that way for as long as possible,” Stanned murmured, thinking about how he hoped for the same regarding Shireen.

“I guess I can’t blame him for that.” Sansa sounded a little deflated, her righteous anger draining away.

“He’ll calm down when he sees you. That’s probably why he wants you home as soon as possible.” He kissed the top of her head affectionately.

“I need a shower and breakfast first. He won’t calm down if he sees me looking a mess.” She picked up a stray lock of hair and dropped it back down to emphasise her words. “Are you going to come with me to Winterfell?” she asked curiously.

Stannis remembered Eddard’s icy tone on the phone from before.

“I think I will need to stay away from Eddard. At least for a month. Possibly permanently.” Stannis was almost being serious, but Sansa just laughed.

“What did he say to you?” She sounded very interested. “It must have been something scary if you’re thinking about avoiding him for the rest of your life.”

Stannis groaned, not really wanting to remember what Eddard had said, much less share it with Sansa. Since she had asked, he would tell her, but he wasn’t happy about it.

“He said he was disappointed, and that he had been wrong to trust me, and that I was an awful, terrible, very bad man,” Stannis sighed, “well, the last part was only implied.”

“Ouch. You got the _worst_ Dad speech. He usually saves that for when we really mess up,” Sansa said sympathetically, sliding down to rest her head on his chest and give him a sort of hug. He slipped an arm around her, enjoying the comfort she offered. It made him feel slightly better.

“Well, we should really get you on the road. Would you like me to drive you?” he offered, only a little reluctantly. He really liked driving Sansa, but he did not want to go anywhere close to the Stark family residence.

“Do you want to? I don’t mind taking a taxi if that’s what you prefer.” She sat up to look him shrewdly in the eyes.

“I’d pay for the car, of course, but yes -- if you truly don’t mind, that’s what I’d prefer,” he admitted. When she had sat up, the covers had slipped, and he could see her breasts. It was very distracting. He remembered having his mouth all over them, and found himself very much wishing to repeat the experience.

“No problem. I’m just going to shower, then,” she smiled at him, a playful glint in her eyes, “want to join me?”

As arousing as the idea of showering with her again was, Eddard’s voice was still ringing in his ears. He couldn’t bring himself to agree to it.

“I’m not sure that’s conductive to getting you home as quickly as possible,” Stannis said, but he didn’t want her to think that he didn’t appreciate the offer, so he continued, “as much as I wish to join you, I think I should make you some breakfast instead.”

Sansa had started to pout, but at the mention of breakfast she brightened. “Can you make French toast?”

Stannis did a quick mental inventory of what he had in the kitchen. He was relatively sure he had butter, bread, eggs, and cinnamon. Maple syrup, however…

“I think I am skilled enough not to burn French toast. Will it be tolerable without any maple syrup?”

Sansa nodded happily. Even with smudged make-up and wild, tangled hair, her smile looked dazzlingly beautiful. He forgot what they had been talking about for a moment while he looked at her. Was she really in love with him? This stunning creature? It made absolutely no sense at all. His past experiences had taught him that nothing good ever happened to him.

She crawled into his lap and kissed him soundly on the lips. It was almost as if she had heard his thoughts and was determined to prove him wrong.

“When you look at me like that, I just want to kiss you until I can’t breathe,” she whispered in his ear, sounding sincere, but a little mischievous too.

His body was starting to respond to having her so close, warm and naked except for bed covers that had come off for the most part. It didn’t help that she was whispering in his ear and kissing him. Eddard’s voice was becoming fainter in his memory already, pushed aside by the much more interesting prospect of having Sansa again. Right now. Maybe she could ride him this time?

“Use lots of butter for mine, please?” Her mundane, breakfast-related request pulled his mind out of the gutter.

He nodded at her, and she beamed.

He was going to go make breakfast. Not have more sex. Not follow Sansa into the shower. 

Sensible of him.

Stannis watched longingly as Sansa got up from the bed and disappeared into the en suite. Why did he have to be sensible, again?

He rolled over to bury his face in a pillow, wondering as he did where the pillow Sansa had wanted to put between her legs last night had gone. It was probably somewhere in the middle of the bed, he reasoned. Would it be very deviant of him to find it and bury his face in that one instead?

He heard the shower start, and decided to find out whether he was a deviant another time. Dragging his feet the whole way, he walked to his closet and found some jeans and a T-shirt. Comfortable Sunday clothes. He had nowhere to be today, although there was a pile of reports on his desk that he needed to sort through at some point, and he didn’t want to think about what sort of condition his inbox must be in by now. He had been ignoring it since Sansa arrived at his apartment.

With a final lingering look at the bathroom door, he headed for the kitchen. (With a small detour to the guest washroom.)

Cooking was not his strong suit, but he was relatively competent when it came to simple things. Dipping bread in egg and frying it was not that complicated. He set about looking for everything he’d need, and cursed the fact that he still hadn’t reorganised the kitchen properly. Selyse had some sort of system for finding everything, but he had never understood it. It had been years since she moved out, but somehow he had never bothered to get the kitchen sorted to his liking. He didn’t really use it that often, anyway.

After a few annoying minutes of searching, he was able to start making breakfast.

He had just about finished when Sansa joined him. Her hair was still wet, and her face was free and clear of all smudges. The only blemish on her skin was the one he had left on her neck. She was dressed in her casual clothes, the same ones she had arrived in.

He gave her the bread which was a bit more buttery and a bit less burnt, and they sat down to eat. She ate it like it was the best French toast she had ever tasted, and thanked him sweetly for making it. He picked at his own, too busy staring at her and listening to her talk about her plans for the week to really taste it.

He really didn’t want her to leave. It was easy to picture spending the whole day with her. Work could wait a bit longer while he talked to her, held her, and watched a few more old movies with her, couldn’t it?

Maybe it could, but she needed to go home. Then Eddard would calm down, and Sansa and he could figure out the next steps of their relationship.

Stannis noticed that Sansa was fidgeting a little in her chair. It did not look like the good kind of fidgeting.

“How are you feeling?” he asked seriously, feeling concerned and wondering if she was still sore. He grimaced as he was reminded again of how he had completely lost control of himself as his climax approached, allowing himself to be much rougher than he should have even considered, knowing that it was her first time. It had really been deplorable behaviour. 

He deserved Eddard’s ire.

“Still a little sore, but it’s fading,” Sansa admitted, blushing faintly. She stopped fidgeting.

“It really was not my intention to hurt you.” He had rarely felt this wretched!

“You didn’t! At first when you, um, sped up, it felt _so good_. I’m pretty sure I’ll really like it when I’m more used to all this.” Her blush had deepened considerably, but she was meeting his eyes stubbornly. Her words sent a fresh wave of arousal through him. The fact that it had felt good for her, and how she implied she wanted to get used to having sex with him -- it was everything he wanted to hear. 

However, those two qualifying words _’at first’_ were jarring. At first it had been good, _but then he had hurt her._ He clenched his jaw, furious with himself.

“Please let me know if there’s anything I can do for you,” he begged, feeling like the small comforts he had been able to offer her last night had been utterly trivial token gestures. Surely there was something more he could do?

Sansa leant over to kiss him, a brief affectionate peck. “Maybe call me later today? I’d like to hear from you.”

“Of course.” _Anything._

Once they had finished their unhealthy breakfast, he called a taxi for her and tried to pretend to be busy in his study while she quickly packed her belongings. In reality, he was sulking because he did not want her to go and was feeling rather sorry for himself, but she did not need to know that.

He helped her downstairs, carrying her suitcase for her. He paid the driver upfront to take her home, and restrained himself from giving her a passionate farewell kiss. They were outside. He did not want to risk any more awkward photographs. Sansa pecked him on the cheek after looking around, presumably for cameras, and smiled sweetly at him.

“I’ll see you soon, okay?” She tucked a damp lock of hair behind her ear.

Stannis just nodded, not really trusting himself to say anything except words that would beg her to stay.

He held the door of the cab open for her, and she went inside the car. The door closed. The engine started. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her, and she was watching him through the window. As the car began to pull away from the curb, she blew him a kiss and mouthed _”Goodbye!”_

He lifted a hand to give her a solemn wave.

Stannis watched until the car had disappeared from view, sighed, and returned to his apartment.

***

It was still early when Sansa got back to her house. She knew Jon and Robb would probably still be sleeping, they generally always slept in on weekends. The younger kids might be up, but she couldn’t hear them. She decided to try to be quiet just in case. Not because she wanted to get to her room without alerting her father to her presence. No sir.

She closed the door noiselessly and picked her bag up rather than wheel it. Then, with almost ninja-like stealth, she started to move silently through the house.

“Sansa, please come to my office,” her father’s voice rang out. He did not sound happy.

“I’ll be right there!” she answered, just loud enough so that he would definitely hear. She hurriedly dumped her bag in her room and walked into her father’s office. The last time she had been in there it had been because Stannis was there to ask permission to date her. She smiled weakly at the memory, feeling reasonably sure this would not be as pleasant a conversation.

“Hi,” she said quietly, lingering in the doorway.

“Please sit down. Close the door.” Her father was looking at her with his disappointed face. That was his very worst face. Her heart sank, and she did as he asked.

“I thought I was absolutely clear when I asked that you would return to Winterfell and sleep in your own bed,” he began looking at her with those sad, disappointed eyes. She wanted to look at the floor, but that would be like admitting that she had done something wrong. She forced herself to meet his gaze. “I also thought I was quite generous to allow you to return much later than usually. Clearly, that was a misunderstanding on my part.” He paused and let the silence become oppressive.

Sansa knew better than to say anything yet, so she just kept stubbornly meeting his eyes.

“I know very well what it can be like at the start of a new relationship, but I had hoped you would not rush into anything _serious_ with Stannis.” Her father was grimacing slightly, as if he didn’t even want to use a euphemism for sex. “You’re still so young, Sansa.” He looked at her mournfully.

She decided she would not wait any longer. She needed to defend herself.

“Dad, I love him,” she said, aiming for a calm and composed statement. She felt herself blushing a little, but she kept her chin up.

Her father had gone a little pale. He looked at her for a long moment, and she stared him down. 

“I see,” he finally responded faintly, still pale in the face, “and your feelings are returned?” he asked hesitantly.

“Yes,” she said confidently, leaving no room for doubt. Her father still looked like he wanted to ask if she was sure. She narrowed her eyes at him and he nodded, accepting her word without questioning her further.

“It is not my intention to dictate how you live your life, Sansa,” her father rubbed his face, looking like he was baffled and a little upset at how the conversation had gone, “however, you do still live under my roof, and I expect you to follow some basic rules while you do,” he said sternly.

Sansa could tell that she had won. He was no longer looking disappointed. She knew him, and she knew that he would not have the heart to make things difficult for her if he believed that she was in a mutually loving relationship. Right now he was just trying to assert his authority and save face.

“Yes, I know. I’m really sorry I didn’t come home. I did mean to. We just accidentally fell asleep!” She knew she just had to convince him that she did mean to follow his rules, and that it just been an honest mistake. He’d go easy on her.

“Well. See that it doesn’t happen again,” he ordered forbiddingly. Sansa could tell that the wind was out of his sails, though.

“Yes, I promise,” she agreed solemnly. When she had spoken to her father on the phone and insisted that she’d want to occasionally sleep over with Stannis, she had been annoyed and upset. In hindsight it hadn’t been a very smart thing to say. She thought it might be wise to appease him by respecting his silly curfew for the time being. She’d be moving to King’s Landing soon enough and would be able to do whatever she wanted then.

She smiled at her father, giving him a look that had never failed to melt his heart in the past. His furrowed brow smoothed out and the corners of his mouth twitched, eventually breaking into a small smile.

“You’re in love, huh?” He had a slightly nostalgic look on his face now. “You know your mother was my first love,” he told her, as if she hadn’t heard the story of how her parents met and fell in love a million times.

“Yes, Dad. I know.” She smiled indulgently at him.

“She thought she was interested in your Uncle Brandon, but I got her attention away from him.” His eyes were alight with mischief at the memory. Sansa made herself comfortable. It was apparently story time.

“From the moment I saw her I knew she had to be my wife. She was all wrong for Brandon.” Her father placed both hands at the back of his head and leant back in his chair, a fond smile on his face. “I just had to convince her of this. So I started to send her little gifts and love letters, signing them as _Her Secret Admirer_ ” He smiled and glanced at Sansa to gauge her reaction.

“And she thought it was Uncle Brandon?” Sansa prompted him.

“Yes, I asked her to meet with me in one of the letters, and she showed up expecting it to be him,” her father laughed.

“That’s when she realised that she had known it was you all along, right?” Sansa remembered her mother telling her how it had been the most romantic epiphany of her life.

“I wanted to propose to her on the spot, but I waited until we had been together a few months.” Her father shook his head a little, apparently amused at his younger self.

“You two must have been about my age,” Sansa reminded him, using the opportunity to point out that she was not too young to be in a committed relationship. Not unless he thought that _he_ had been too young, too.

Her father gave her a look that said _’I see what you did there’_ and he stood up from his chair.

“Give your old man a hug.” He opened his arms. Sansa didn’t hesitate -- Dad hugs were the best.

He squeezed her tightly, resting his head on top of hers. “I never expected you to grow up so fast.” He told her, sounding a little choked up. Hearing his voice like that made her feel a little teary too.

“I’ll always be your little girl. Nothing will ever change that.” Her words were a little muffled due to the hug, but she knew that he heard her. He held her even tighter for a moment, but soon let her go.

Her father swallowed and sniffed a little. “Have you eaten anything?”

“Yes, Stannis made French toast,” she told him happily, “I’m getting a little hungry again, though. It’s almost lunch time, isn’t it?”

The two of them made plans to wake Jon and Robb and make lunch together. Her mother had apparently taken the three youngest Starks to the swimming pool, and would probably appreciate coming home to a nice lunch.

Sansa spent the next few hours with her family, allowing her father to baby her a little and doing her best to ignore Arya. It was a little harder to ignore Robb and Jon’s gentle teasing about Stannis, and she hissed at them to shut up a few times when her father would not overhear.

At one point her mother took her aside and gave her a hug.

“Were you safe?” she asked, simply. There was no judgment in her voice, only concern. Sansa blushed and nodded, feeling awkward about admitting that she’d done anything that required protection.

Her mother kissed her forehead and immediately rubbed the mark her lipstick left off with her thumb.

“If you start feeling sad or upset, let me know. I’ll make you some hot chocolate,” her mother offered gently.

Sansa looked at her mother in confusion. “Why would I feel sad or upset?”

Her mother smiled at her kindly. “Taking certain steps in life can bring about a variety of different emotions,” she said mysteriously and hugged her again.

They had joined the others again after that, and Sansa put it out of her mind.

It wasn’t until she was by herself in her room that she understood what her mother had meant. She had been lying on her bedspread, a book in her lap, but mostly scrolling through her social media pages on her phone, and wondering if she should call Margaery, when she suddenly started to feel a little like someone had died.

Her throat constricted, and she pushed her phone and the book away. She grabbed a pillow instead, hugging it to her like it was a lifeline.

She did not regret her decision to sleep with Stannis, but she was overwhelmed by an onslaught of mournful feelings none the less. She wanted to curl up into a ball and cry.

She had taken an _irreversible_ step. She would never be able to go back and change it, or do it over. She was no longer a virgin, and would never be again for the rest of her life. Maybe eighty years! - If she was lucky. 

It was odd that she didn’t feel any different, or look and different when she woke up. Except for the hickey on her neck. _Or should she call it a love bite now that she was in love?_ It had made her giggle to see it, but she had been careful to put on a sweater that covered it up before she entered her house. She doubted her father would have been amused at the sight of it.

Sansa felt her shoulders shaking, and she let a small sob escape her. Why was she so upset all of a sudden? Nothing bad had happened! She had wanted to make love, and she had. They had used protection, and it hadn’t hurt nearly as much as her romance novels sometimes described. She hadn’t been this upset at anything else they had done!

She supposed that was because she hadn’t felt like she’d been losing her virginity when she did those things.

There was a soft knock at her door.

Sansa wiped her cheeks with the back of a hand and sniffed. “Who is it?” she called.

“I thought you might like some hot chocolate,” her mother’s voice carried through the door.

“Come in,” Sansa responded, feeling relieved that it was her mother and not another less understanding family member.

Her mother set the mug of chocolate down on Sansa’s nightstand and gathered her up in her arms, sitting down next to her.

“It’s all right, darling,” her mother soothed, stroking her hair gently.

For the second time in a very short while, Sansa found herself crying in her mother’s arms. It felt just as good as it had the last time, and soon Sansa’s tears stopped flowing.

Her mother let her go and handed her the mug. Sansa sipped at it, enjoying the sweet flavour and the warmth.

“I don’t even know why I’m upset,” she admitted after she had swallowed the first few sips, smiling a teary smile.

“I expect you’re feeling a loss,” her mother suggested gently, “it’s natural to mourn a loss. Even if it is a loss we have prepared ourselves for.” She started to stroke Sansa’s hair again. “It will pass soon, but it’s perfectly all right to take the time to grieve a little.”

Sansa nodded and drank more of her chocolate. Her mother’s words made a lot of sense.

“Thanks, Mum,” she whispered, leaning into her mother’s touch.

“I felt the same way, once upon a time,” Catelyn said and smiled, looking a little nostalgic. Nostalgia seemed to be the theme for her parents today.

Sansa’s phone started to ring, begging for attention from its abandoned position in the middle of the bed. She reached for it and saw that it was Stannis calling her, just as she had asked him to.

“It’s Stannis,” she told her mother. Catelyn nodded and silently left the room, leaving her to speak to Stannis in private. Sansa answered as soon as the door shut behind her.

“Hey!” Sansa attempted to sound bright and cheerful, but her voice definitely sounded like she had been crying. Maybe he wouldn’t notice?

“Sansa?” Stannis was audibly concerned, “you sound upset, is something wrong?”

“I’m fine, everything is fine. I was just talking to my mum.” Sansa really wished that Stannis was with her so that she could feel his arms around her and be reassured of his love.

“What about?” he still sounded concerned.

“How weird it is to have your emotions be all over the place,” Sansa sniffed and laughed, feeling ridiculous.

“I see.” He did not sound like he understood, sounding faintly bewildered. He was trying to, however, and that was endearing.

“According to Mum I’m _’mourning the loss of my virginity’_. It’s really weird. I felt fine up until twenty minutes ago.” Sansa rolled her eyes a little at herself, hoping Stannis wouldn’t think she was crazy.

“I’m coming to see you.” Stannis sounded even more concerned and quite agitated. Sansa was thrilled at the idea of him coming to see her, but then she thought about what Stannis had said about wanting to avoid her dad and her heart sank. She didn’t want Stannis to come see her if it made him uncomfortable and she also didn’t want him to think she was _seriously_ upset. She was already feeling much better.

“No, no! You don’t have to do that,” she protested halfheartedly, “I’m fine, really. Mum gave me hot chocolate. I’m good as new. Sort of. I’m a new and improved version!” Sansa babbled, not really knowing what she was trying to say.

Stannis was quiet for a moment. Then he took a deep breath that she could hear and hesitantly asked her a question. “Did you happen to talk to your father?”

“Yes, I explained everything. He’s doing all right. He went a little pale when I told him we were in love, but he decided to react by telling me the story of how he and Mum fell in love for the millionth time, so I think he was in a pretty good mood in the end.” Sansa lapsed into silence, unsure whether to continue, and curious what Stannis would think of the fact that she’d told her father that they were in love.

“Do you think he’d object to me visiting you?” Stannis asked worriedly.

“No, I don’t think so… “ Sansa trailed off, “you really don’t have to come. I’m all right.” She tried to sound convincing. She really did!

“I want to see you,” he said firmly, making her heart swell. She really wanted to see him too. She felt like nothing but him would make her sad feelings of loss go away properly. “Anyway, I should talk to Eddard, too. It’s cowardly to avoid it.” Stannis sounded less firm about this, but still quite decided. “I’ll be there soon,” he promised, ending the call.

***

Stannis had probably broken more traffic laws on his way to Winterfell that afternoon than he had broken in his entire life. He was usually a very careful driver, after having witnessed his parents’ death it was hard not to be. However, he felt that ignoring the speed limits a little was warranted when Sansa was upset.

It had absolutely crushed him to hear her sound so vulnerable on the phone. He could tell that she needed him to be there for her, and suddenly his reluctance to see Eddard was no obstacle at all. He had been in his car not five minutes after he had ended the phone call.

It was quite late in the afternoon by the time he knocked on the door he was becoming very familiar with. He much preferred standing in front of it when anticipating a date with Sansa, but he did not truly mind having an unpleasant conversation with Eddard for her sake. In a perfect world it might have been possible to avoid it, but Stannis had never expected his world to be perfect.

Bran opened the door. “Oh. Hello Stannis, are you here to see Sansa?” The boy looked up at him curiously.

“Yes, but I would like to speak with you father as well. Is he available?” Stannis asked politely.

“Yes, I think he’s in the kitchen with Mum,” Bran informed him, swinging the door wide open and stepping aside.

Stannis found Eddard and Catelyn in the kitchen, apparently putting together a shopping list for the grocery store. Eddard had his head in the refrigerator and was telling Catelyn what they needed to buy while she wrote it down.

Catelyn looked up when he walked into the kitchen, surprise evident on her face for only a moment before looked at him with a very pleased, approving expression. “Stannis, what a lovely surprise!” she said, smiling at him, “it’s so good that you’re here.” 

Stannis nodded at her in acknowledgement. He was surprised that she looked so pleased to see him. Didn’t she know what had happened?

Eddard immediately closed the fridge and turned to look at him, a mixture of a lot of different emotions on his face.

“I expect you want a word with me,” Stannis said evenly.

“Yes, I do,” Eddard replied, his tone clipped.

“Ned, don’t be difficult. he’s here for Sansa. She’ll want his company.” Catelyn’s voice carried a subtle warning for her husband, and a reminder. Stannis felt even more confused. Did Catelyn know what had happened after all? Did she _approve?_ That made no sense.

“This won’t take long,” Eddard promised his wife. He left the kitchen, heading for his office. He did not ask Stannis to follow him or make any kind of gesture to indicate that he should. Still, Stannis knew he was meant to follow.

Once they were shut in Eddard’s office, and seated on opposite sides of the desk, Eddard spoke. 

“Sansa is under the impression that you two are in love.” The older man was looking at him intently, searching for any hint of untruth.

Stannis just nodded, making sure to meet Eddard’s penetrating gaze.

“That certainly didn’t take long,” Eddard commented, a little sourly, “not that I’m really surprised that you love her already. Everyone she meets falls in love with her within minutes,” he muttered.

Glancing at the clock, he went to pour himself a stiff drink. He didn’t offer Stannis a glass.

“You are surprised at Sansa then, I take it? I assure you, I’m as baffled as you that she has seen fit to look at me twice,” Stannis said self-deprecatingly, using the opportunity to speak while Eddard was drinking from his glass.

“More than twice, and more than look,” Eddard countered, raising an eyebrow challengingly.

Stannis felt himself flush and he looked down at his hands in an attempt to hide it.

“I stand by what I said this morning, Stannis. I had hoped you would wait until she was a little older. I thought I could trust you to do that.” Eddard paused to take another fortifying drink from his glass. “However, I am not completely unsympathetic to the position that you’re in. I remember what it was like when Catelyn and I first got together. I couldn’t keep my hands off her, and she didn’t want me to!”

Stannis was horrified. He wanted to sink into the floor to escape. 

“Just... no sleeping over at your apartment while she lives under my roof. And don’t get her pregnant.” Eddard drained his glass and put it down with a loud thunk. Stannis flinched slightly at the sound, he had still been looking down at his hands, and hadn’t expected it.

He looked up to nod in agreement at Eddard, face burning. This was excruciating.

“All right then!” Eddard said happily, “congratulations on moving on with your life! Robert and I were starting to think you’d never find another woman.”

Stannis blinked a few times, trying to comprehend the heel-face turn Eddard had just performed. he seemed to have switched from talking to him as Sansa’s father and started to talk to him as his friend.

“Thank you?” Stannis tried hesitantly though it sounded more like a question.

Eddard got up, and he hurried to follow suit. “I’m sure you would like to see Sansa now. She’s in her room.” Eddard ushered him out the door. “Leave the door open,” the older man warned, and Stannis knew that Eddard was referring to Sansa’s bedroom door. He nodded and walked briskly away in search of Sansa’s room.

Catelyn stopped him him before he found it.

“I knew this would happen eventually, though I’m surprised at how quickly,” she began, giving him a _look._ He was still a bit red from his talk with Eddard, but he could feel more blood rush to his face in response to her gaze. “I’m very pleased you’re taking this seriously and that you’re here for her. She will need special care today.” Her voice was a strange mixture of approving and threatening. Stannis knew she was making sure he would take extra care with Sansa, _or else._

Swallowing thickly he met her eyes. “I understand.”

Catelyn nodded, apparently satisfied, and walked off without pointing him in the direction of Sansa’s room.

He had never been in her room before, but he had wandered around the Stark family’s house on many occasions, and knew roughly where it was. Helpfully, many of the doors were labelled with the name of the room’s inhabitant. Sansa’s door had a nameplate that showed her name in a blue flowing script.

He knocked on the door.

“Yes?” Sansa’s voice sounded pretty normal. He was relieved to hear it, that had to mean she was feeling a little better.

“It’s me,” he declared, assuming she would recognise his voice.

There was a very short pause and then the door swung open. Stannis did not really see Sansa as much as he saw a blur with red hair. She threw herself around his neck, hugging him tightly. He staggered a little in surprise, but quickly wrapped his arms around her in return.

“Thank you for coming,” she whispered in his ear, and the depth of emotion in her voice told him that he had definitely made the right decision in coming to see her.

She let him go, and he released his hold too - albeit reluctantly. She smiled at him, and he could see that she had been crying. Her eyes were a little swollen, and her nose slightly red. Without stopping to think about it, he led her to the bed, got comfortable on his back, half upright against a mountain of pillows, and pulled her into his arms, with her head resting on his chest. She curled herself against him gratefully, sighing with relief.

“How do you always read my mind?” she asked him and pressed herself closer.

He supposed that sometimes they just wanted the same things. He squeezed her shoulder reassuringly in lieu of an answer.

They lay quietly like that for what felt like a long time -- at least an hour. Stannis enjoyed the feel of her in his arms, and he was grateful for an opportunity to offer some kind of comfort to her.

He let his eyes wander around the room, taking in the décor with interest. It was a teenager’s room, and it was a young girl’s room, and it was the room of a young woman. She must have lived in it for most of her life. There were favourite childhood toys displayed on shelves, a few framed posters on the wall that featured uncomfortably handsome musicians, her desk was somewhat neat - mostly covered in expensive electronic equipment and heavy textbooks, and there was a familiar suitcase on the floor, waiting to be unpacked.

It felt a little strange to be in a bedroom like hers. His own bedroom was just for sleeping and storing his clothes. Her entire life had to fit into this room. _Until she moved in with him._

Stannis closed his eyes, feeling uncomfortable about having such thoughts. He didn’t expect her to move in with him any time soon. He shouldn’t be thinking about it at all. Foolish and terribly premature…

“This feels so nice. I wish I had a TV in my room, I’d like to watch something with you again,” Sansa said, her voice contented.

“I would not object to that,” he murmured, remembering that he had just been thinking about watching films with her that morning.

“Did you know there’s a cinema in King’s Landing that screens classic films on Thursdays?” she asked, and Stannis realised he was about to be talked into taking her to a movie next Thursday. Somehow he didn’t mind.

“No, I didn’t know that. Shall I assume you wish to go there?” he was relatively certain it was a sound assumption, but it never hurt to make sure.

“I wouldn’t mind,” she told him demurely, obviously trying to contain her excitement at the prospect.

“It’s decided, then,” he declared, reaching to touch her face and bring it up to his lips. Sansa responded to his kiss enthusiastically, almost as if she’d been waiting to kiss him for a week. He had intended to just kiss her chastely on the lips, but she deepened the kiss and curled her tongue around his deliciously.

“Eeewww! They’re kissing!” Arya’s exaggerated disgust floated from the doorway.

Sansa whipped her head around to glare at her sister. “Go away you perv!” Sansa yelled, grabbing the nearest pillow and hurling it at the door. Arya cackled maniacally and ran away.

Stannis didn’t know whether to be amused or embarrassed. He settled for a bit of both.

“Perhaps I should get going.” He moved to sit on the edge of the bed. “Are you feeling any better?”

Sansa smiled at him. “Yes, much.” She sat next to him and kissed his cheek. “You are my favourite,” she told him happily and very sincerely. He felt quite flattered at the slightly juvenile compliment.

“You will have to share that honour with Shireen for my part, I’m afraid,” he admitted.

“That’s all right,” she grinned, but it soon faded into an imploring look, “do you have to go?”

“I doubt it would be a good idea for me to stay for dinner,” he said gently.

“Is Dad giving you a hard time? Because I can tell him off, you know.” Sansa tilted her head to the side, looking sweet and very far from being able to tell anyone off effectively.

“We had a conversation before I found you. You are not to stay the night with me while you live in this house, but otherwise Eddard does not object to our relationship,” he reeled off with a small sigh.

“That’s all he said?” Sansa looked disbelieving.

Stannis grimaced. Why did she have to ask? “Ah, he may also have said something about not getting you pregnant.”

“Gods, he is so embarrassing. I’m sorry he said that,” Sansa apologised, hiding her face in her hands, “I understand why you want to leave. I’ll see you out.” Her words came out a little muffled because she was still hiding her face, but she was understandable.

When they were at the door Sansa kissed him, chastely this time. “You really didn’t have to drive all this way just to make me feel better,” she said shyly.

“I wanted to.” He ran his hand through her hair, liking the silky texture and the way she closed her eyes in pleasure.

When she opened her eyes, she looked at him in a way that made his breath catch. “Thank you.” Her voice was soft and meaningful. He couldn’t get his voice to work, so he just nodded once, staring at her helplessly.

She kissed him once more and stepped back, allowing him the space to leave. He felt rooted to the spot, but managed to make his hand reach for the door handle.

“Bye.” She still spoke in that soft voice, raising a hand, exposing her wrist, and slowly unfolding her fingers in a rather sensual wave. 

There was something about a woman’s wrist that was attractive and a little fragile, Stannis thought. He supposed that was why women in old movie always held cigarettes in that strange way, showing their wrists off.

He tore his eyes away from her hand, raised his own in a sort of salute, and turned to walk out the door before he decided to throw her over his shoulder and take her with him.


	22. An unexpected visitor

_Stark and Baratheon - Still Going Strong_

_As our readers know, Stannis Baratheon of Baratheon Industries - the least known of the three Baratheon brothers - has recently been revealed to be dating Sansa Stark, eldest daughter of Eddard Stark - the current head of Stark and Sons - after their holiday romance in Dorne was photographed and leaked online. Rumours of whether Baratheon Industries and Stark and Sons are heading for an old fashioned merger have been summarily dismissed. A press release on the subject failed to mention anything about the budding romance between Mr. Baratheon and Miss Stark, which prompts this blogger to ask: are they still an item?_

_New photographs taken just this Sunday have started to circulate, and they show quite clearly that the answer to that question is a resounding YES._

_Miss Stark was seen leaving Mr. Baratheon’s apartment building rather early in the morning, her paramour seeing her safely into a taxi. (You’d think he’d look more cheerful after a night with her!)_

_Things are definitely getting serious between those two. Look out King’s Landing, a new power couple has arrived on the scene!_

Sansa read the blog for the third time, shaking her head in disbelief. This was one of the nicest ones, no crude jokes or ‘barely legal’ comments referencing her age. It made her seriously uneasy to think that either she or Stannis, or possibly both of them, were being stalked by photographers. Did people have nothing better to do? Those bloggers baffled her too. Why did they care if she and Stannis were together or not? It was none of their business!

It was mortifying to think that anyone with an Internet connection could find out that she’d slept with Stannis. She was very grateful that the holidays had started so she would not have to face her old classmates with this hanging over her. They were oh-so-helpfully sending her their comments on her love life via social media, but that was fairly easy to ignore.

She was sitting at a café in King’s Landing, opting to stay inside rather than risk a table outside. Somehow she had the idea that she was less likely to be photographed if she stayed inside. She definitely did not want to be seen meeting the person she was about to see. Stannis would probably not like it, and her mother definitely wouldn’t.

“Hello sweetling.” Mr. Baelish sat down at her table, prompting her to close her laptop. He had brought two drinks with him. A regular coffee for himself, and some kind of foamy concoction for her. She mostly had tea usually, but she supposed she could try the foamy whatever-it-was. The tea she had ordered when she originally got to the café was long gone.

“Hello Mr. Baelish. Thank you for taking the time to meet me,” Sansa said politely.

“Call me Petyr, I insist. We’re practically family, after all,” he said and grinned his shark’s grin at her, his eyes flat.

Sansa sighed internally. She did not really wish to encourage familiarity, but for her plan to work she needed Mr. Baelish to think she was friendly towards him. Or at least not quite as hostile as she truly was.

“All right Petyr, thanks for meeting me.” She smiled sweetly, hoping it did not come off as insincere.

“It’s absolutely no trouble. As I said, I have dealt with my share of vicious rumours. I’m happy to give you advice on how to handle them. Or just listen, if you need to vent. I’m at your service.” He looked eager, and now there was a greedy look in his eyes that she did not like.

She took a sip of her foam and had to clench her teeth to keep from grimacing at the overwhelming sweetness of the drink. _Was this how Stannis felt all the time?_

It was time for her to start getting Mr. Baelish talking about the right things.

“Thank you, I just don’t know what to do! I really like Stannis, but I’m not sure I can continue seeing him if this gossip persists. I feel like I constantly have to look over my shoulder to check if someone is following me, or taking pictures - I didn’t ask for this!” Sansa made herself sound as vulnerable and distressed as she could, widening her eyes and going for a slightly trembling lower lip. Judging by how Mr. Baelish was looking at said lip, it was working. 

She had decided to stick as close to the truth as possible when she talked to Mr. Baelish, hoping to make herself more believable. She wasn’t a very good liar, although she had a certain flair for drama that was coming in handy. She was genuinely upset at the idea of being followed, though not nearly upset enough to consider breaking things off with Stannis.

“Oh, sweetling. I know just how you feel.” He obviously meant to sound comforting, but to Sansa he sounded rather lecherous. “Perhaps your relationship with Stannis should not continue if it’s causing you this sort of pain?” he suggested, raising an eyebrow and looking hopeful yet still sympathetic.

She had been hoping to lead him into suggesting this. She had to bring the conversation around to discussing Stannis’ merits, and his company’s merits. Hopefully that would somehow lead to a discussion of the investment Mr. Baelish wanted to make in support of Mr. Greyjoy.

“Maybe. I just really like him. He’s so impressive, don’t you think? Such an important businessman, too!” She pretended to be a bit star-struck. It wasn’t terribly difficult. She was in love with Stannis. To her, he was the most impressive man in her life.

Mr. Baelish looked like she had just told him he needed to compliment a dog for shitting on his lawn.

“There are other impressive businessmen in this town, Sansa. If that’s what you like,” he said, strongly insinuating with his tone that he, himself, was one of them.

“I don’t know. My dad has always spoken so highly of Stannis. He’s never said anything half so nice about any other men he’s collaborated with.” This was true as well. Her father had always held Stannis in high regard for his fair and well thought-out business practises.

“I hate to suggest it, but you might want to reconsider putting your faith in what your father says about Stannis.” Mr. Baelish was looking very far from being upset at having to suggest such a thing. He looked almost gleeful. He glanced around ostentatiously and lowered his voice. “I know for a fact that your father and Stannis worked together to prey on a man who was down on his luck in order to sweep away property that was his birthright.”

Sansa pretended to be shocked and appalled. “My father would never do something so dishonest!”

“I assure you, he did. Although, I do believe Stannis was the main tactician behind the scheme,” Mr. Baelish insisted.

“Well, there has to be some mistake. Someone should do something about it! Maybe I should talk to my father? I’m sure there’s a way to straighten it all out.” She hoped she wasn’t laying it on too thick with the naive act.

“As it happens, _I_ am attempting to help the man buy back the property in question. With me as a financial backer, he should be able to afford it,” Mr. Baelish said, obviously hoping to impress her. If he would have buffed his nails on his jacket and inspected them, he could not have looked more smugly pleased with himself.

“Really?” she acted suitably impressed, “that’s amazing!” She beamed at him, trying her hardest not to roll her eyes. “But, how does helping him benefit you? I know investors don’t invest in property for no reason.” She pretended to be puzzled. It was not hard, as she was genuinely perplexed by what his motives might be. The question of what he was getting out of the Greyjoy deal was what she really wanted an answer to - the whole point of this charade.

“Perhaps it is enough for me to see Stannis Baratheon taken down a peg or two. It is just as I said - he is not as honourable as he would have everyone think. As he would have _you_ think.” 

The meaningful way he emphasised that last part made Sansa’s skin crawl. If she were a very self-absorbed person, she might be tempted to assume that Mr. Baelish was funding Mr. Greyjoy just to spite Stannis, and attempt to make him look bad to her, so that he might look better in comparison.

That was way too convoluted though, wasn’t it?

“Yes, I see what you mean,” she said distractedly, noticing that she had been silent for a bit longer than expected.

Mr. Baelish put his hand over one of hers. “You know you don’t have to stay with him. I’m sure there are plenty of other interested suitors, just lining up at your door.” Again he was heavily insinuating that he was first in line.

Sansa wanted to yank her hand away, but she made herself stay still.

She giggled nervously, both because she felt nervous and also because she thought it might be a believable reaction to Mr. Baelish flirting with her.

“Really, Petyr!” she attempted to sound coy, “are you saying you’re spending all that money just to help me see that Stannis might not be as great as I think he is?” She smiled coquettishly. 

“Is it working?” he asked with what he probably thought was a rakish and charming grin.

She ducked her head as if she wanted to hide a blush, but instead hid a grimace.

“To be honest, the man who needs the funds approached me, and showed me his business plan for the property. He has found a way to increase the profit margins considerably, so the potential returns are enormous. If my investment also convinces you that Stannis isn’t as impressive as you seem to think, then that’s just a happy coincidence.” Mr. Baelish sounded like he was laying the cards on the table.

Sansa nodded at him, affecting a fascinated expression. This was probably the closest to the truth that she would ever be able to get. Time to activate her exit strategy.

She had already entered the text message into her phone, and only had to press send. She did it discreetly, as she pretended to dig around in her bag for her lip gloss. She tried to put the gloss on quickly, not liking the way Mr. Baelish followed the applicator as she swept it over her lips.

She was just putting her lip gloss back in her bag when her phone started to ring. She had to bite back a grin when she realised that Margaery must have given herself a new personalised ringtone. It was Tina Turner’s _Simply the Best_ this time around. Sansa really needed to keep a closer eye on her phone when she was around Margaery… She made a show of being annoyed and apologetic at the interruption, but looked at the screen. As she knew it would be, it was Margaery calling to rescue her.

“I’m so sorry, I have to take this,” Sansa told Mr. Baelish, putting the phone to her ear.

“Your husband is dead, your pickup has been stolen, and your dog has food poisoning. I don’t know. Pick any excuse,” Margaery said in a bored tone of voice.

Sansa took the phone from her ear, covering it with her hand. “My mother needs me to come home and look after Rickon for her,” she explained to Mr. Baelish, hoping he wouldn’t detect the lie.

He looked a little disappointed, but nodded in understanding.

“Okay Mum, I’ll be home as soon as possible,” she said to Margaery.

“You owe me for this. Call me and tell me what this was about tonight,” Margaery commanded.

“Bye!” Sansa sang cheerfully, ending the call.

She started to pack up her things. “Thank you again for meeting me Petyr, you’ve given me a lot to think about.” Sansa forced another smile.

“Not at all, please call me anytime you want to talk. My offer to show you around the old University building and the grounds still stands, too.” 

Sansa wondered if he knew how smarmy he sounded.

“Of course! I remember.” Sansa nodded, hoping she did not sound as if she were agreeing to anything. She was ready to leave, so she stood up and hoisted her computer bag over one shoulder. 

“Goodbye, then.” She smiled tightly and left him sitting at her table, half finished cup of coffee in front of him, and a nearly untouched cup of foamy sugar where she had been sitting.

***

Stannis had successfully avoided his brother for several days. He knew he’d have to talk to him eventually, but he was hopeful that it wouldn’t be today. He had instructed his assistant - a very competent middle-aged woman who always performed her duties with a serious, ruthless efficiency that he appreciated (although she had a disturbing habit of bringing baked goods to work which he always felt obligated to taste) to tell everyone except Davos that he was not to be disturbed.

It was getting dull, being cooped up in his office. He usually had his hands on deck, though he tried to avoid micro-managing his employees. He was using the time to catch up on reports. They always piled up on him, but more so lately as he was working less in his free time. He was getting heartily sick of the long report he had been reading for the past three hours, so he decided to check his email for a bit of a change.

His inbox was filling up with messages from Renly, linking him to yet more blogs that were commenting on his relationship with Sansa. He had stopped reading them after the first ten or so. They were all the same. Varying degrees of rude, but all the same.

Stannis thought it was highly suspicious that someone had managed to snap pictures of him getting Sansa into her taxi on Sunday morning. Whoever it was must have been staking the building out. He had never been the sort of person who warranted that kind of interest, even accounting for the gossip from last week. There was definitely something rotten in the state of Denmark.

There was a distinctive knock at the door that Stannis recognised immediately. It was Davos.

“Enter!” Stannis called, relieved for the chance to continue postponing his inevitable return to the dreaded reports.

Davos greeted Stannis respectfully and made himself at home in the chair in front of the desk.

“As you know, I’ve had Melisandre under surveillance since the other day,” he began without preamble. Stannis nodded for him to continue. “She had a very interesting lunch meeting today.” Davos paused, intentionally keeping Stannis in suspense.

“How was the meeting interesting?” Stannis prompted impatiently, glaring reprovingly at his friend.

“Melisandre was meeting with Cersei Lannister,” Davos explained. 

Stannis agreed that it was very interesting indeed. He knew Melisandre had come into contact with Cersei through his wife Selyse while he was still married, but he had not imagined that Cersei would wish to keep in touch with the attorney.

“I have a transcript of their conversation,” Davos handed him a file, “would you like me tell you the highlights?”

Stannis made a permissive gesture, indicating that Davos should go ahead. He would read the transcript later. Hearing what Davos had made of the conversation was sure to be valuable, his friend had a knack for reading between the lines of what people said to each other.

“Apparently, Cersei is the one behind the paparazzi problem you’ve been having.” Davos looked at him worriedly when he started to grind his teeth. He made a concentrated effort to stop. It was difficult because he had a very good reason to grind his teeth. That infuriating woman! How dare she send photographers after him and Sansa? How on earth could that benefit her?

“She seemed to be under the impression that your relationship with Sansa would disintegrate in the face of cruel gossip and the invasion of your privacy. Ending your relationship seemed to be her goal.” Davos seemed to think it was a laughable goal, but Stannis was not amused. Why would Cersei want to ruin his relationship with Sansa? Could she truly just be that spiteful?

_Probably._

“Cersei had arranged the meeting with Melisandre because she was most upset that the photographs from Sunday showed that you and Sansa are still together. Cersei is aware that Melisandre is going to attempt to force you to sign over the Pyke properties to Balon Greyjoy, and she wishes to help Melisandre in that endeavour -- provided she also forces you to stop seeing Sansa.” Davos paused to take a deep breath, looking nervously at Stannis.

Stannis was not even attempting to stop himself from grinding his teeth. He needed to take his agitation out on _something._ His enamel would simply have to suffer.

“Cersei showed Melisandre some pictures that she had on her phone, it is unclear what they may depict, but Melisandre said that she thought they would work well within the scheme she had originally had in mind.” Davos frowned, clearly concerned about this. Stannis was concerned too. What sort of pictures could Cersei have that could be used to extort him?

Unless she had installed cameras in his private domain, he was relatively sure he ought to be safe. He had never done anything worthy of being used as blackmail material. At least not where he could reasonably have been photographed. _Had she installed cameras in his apartment?_ Stannis resolved to call the security firm that ensured Dragonstone Tower’s safety and ask them to sweep his apartment for bugs and secret cameras. Maybe it was paranoid, but better safe than sorry.

“They did not make clear plans for when they would strike, but I think it’s safe to say that it will be soon,” Davos finished uneasily.

“It is intolerable to be compelled to wait until that treacherous shrew decides to make a move.” Stannis scowled deeply, feeling powerless and hating it with a burning passion.

“Yes, I - “ Davos stopped speaking because the door to the office was suddenly thrown open.

“Stannis!” Robert exclaimed gleefully from the doorway, already marching inside and filling the room with his loud, obnoxious presence.

Well, Stannis had known Robert would eventually find him. Perhaps it had not been wise to hide in his office. Next time he would go to a different country.

“Your assistant said you were not to be disturbed, but I’m sure you have time for a chat with your dear older brother, don’t you?” Robert prattled happily, completely oblivious to the murderous looks Stannis was throwing at him.

“Actually, Davos and I were in the middle of an important conversation. Perhaps we could schedule a meeting?” _For next month? Better yet, next year?_

“Davos doesn’t mind!” Robert slapped Davos on the back with the kind of force that would have made a lesser man wince. Stannis noticed approvingly that Davos did not so much as blink.

“I’ve already told you all the important bits, you can read the transcript and get back to me later.” Davos obviously wanted to get out before he had to witness another brotherly chat. Stannis couldn’t blame him.

“Fine, fine. It’s late anyway. Get home to your wife,” Stannis ordered, his tone irritated, but the sentiment genuine.

Davos nodded, saluted, and left Stannis alone with his brother. 

Robert had a lewd grin on his face that did not bode well.

“You and Ned are impossible. I had to find out from the Internet that you finally lived up to the Baratheon name!” Robert affected a dramatically wounded expression. “I suppose I can forgive Ned for not wanting to talk about his little girl growing up on him, but you could have at least _called._ ”

Stannis wanted to hide his face in his hands, or possibly knock himself out on his own desk, but he continued to glare and scowl at his brother. Maybe this time it would work to shut him up? _One could dream…_

“You know how much I want to hear all the details!” Robert plopped himself down in the chair that Davos had just vacated, and looked expectantly at Stannis.

“Don’t be disgusting,” Stannis spat, “I know it does not come naturally, but please try.”

“Come on! You know I haven’t slept with an eighteen year old in years. Let me live vicariously through you!” Robert laughed his booming laugh, and Stannis had to fight the urge to flinch at the loud sound.

“She is not ‘an eighteen year old’. She is Sansa, a real person with feelings. Additionally, she is your best friend’s _daughter._ Would it kill you to have some respect?” Stannis spoke through gritted teeth as he so often had to do when he conversed with Robert.

“You’re so touchy,” Robert grumbled. He frowned for a moment, but then he brightened. “I bet she was tighter than a Jew in recession! How long did you last? How many positions did you try? Have you bent her over a table yet?” Robert was leaning forward a little, a very mischievous look on his face.

Stannis stared at his brother in shocked disgust. Had he just managed to be sexist and racist in the same breath? Did he honestly expect Stannis to answer those utterly insulting and inappropriate questions?

“Get. Out.” Stannis did not even attempt to mask his fury.

“Oh, relax,” Robert rolled his eyes, “I’m just kidding around.” He smiled winningly, obviously intending for his words to calm Stannis down. Stannis did not calm down. “You know me, I’m just trying to tell you I’m happy for you,” Robert continued, not even slightly worried by the enraged look Stannis was shooting him.

Stannis didn’t say anything. He had asked Robert to get out, and he did not want to repeat himself.

“Seven hells, Stannis! I though getting a little action might cheer you up!” Robert was looking both irritated and amused.

Stannis sighed and rolled his eyes. Robert would not leave until he got what he came for. Might as well find out what it was. “What can I say that will make you leave?” he asked, rubbing his face in his hands.

“Admit that you’re at least a little bit happy, and also that you’ve been wanting to tear Sansa’s clothes off for the last few weeks -- or however long it’s been,” Robert stubbornly demanded.

This was even more humiliating than when Robert used to hold him in a headlock until he choked out something with the general meaning of ‘uncle’.

“You lack tact, Robert,” Stannis muttered. Then, more loudly, he gave in and told Robert what he wanted to hear. “I’m happy enough when you are not talking to me, and I’ve wanted Sansa since you made her sit on my lap in that ridiculous jeep you drive.”

Robert’s eyes widened and his mouth opened to gape comically. “Since the drive to the lodge?!” he shook his head in disbelief, “and you didn’t sleep with her until _now_?!”

“You said you’d leave,” Stannis complained bitterly.

“That was before.” Robert waved his hand as if to shoo away an irksome fly. “What happened in the jeep?”

“Nothing,” Stannis said quickly, feeling himself redden.

Robert leant back in the chair, crossed his arms and raising a challenging eyebrow. He was not buying what Stannis was selling.

“Her hair smelled nice,” he mumbled, feeling mortified. Why was his brother so awful? Why couldn’t he just leave him alone? Better yet, leave him to run Baratheon Industries and move to some beach where he could drink and whore his way into oblivion without causing Stannis any trouble. That would be nice.

Robert looked intrigued by Stannis’ admission, and seemed to be puzzling something out in his head. Understanding dawned eventually.

“Fucking hells! Are you in love with her?” Robert stared at him incredulously and swore a little more under his breath.

Stannis was confused for a moment. He had not been surprised that Eddard had not seen fit to mention that Stannis and Sansa were sleeping together, but he had not expected the man to keep the fact that they were in love from his brother. Maybe Eddard was slowly learning that telling Robert the details of Sansa’s romantic life was tantamount to broadcasting them across Westeros?

Stannis closed his eyes briefly, sighed, and nodded at Robert. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to say anything else.

“Well, fuck.” Robert looked completely dumbfounded. “I thought you just got hard from having her on your lap or something.”

Stannis couldn’t help the embarrassed, guilty look that must have appeared on his face before he could school his features.

“That too, huh?” Robert chuckled, “well, I’m happy for you. I really am. Sansa is a lovely girl. Woman.” He stood up and walked to the door. Before he reached to open it he turned around with a panicked expression.

“You know I was really just kidding about all that stuff I said, right? You’re not going to tell Ned about it, are you?”

“Of course not, Robert,” Stannis reassured him and pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. The less he discussed anything to do with sex with Eddard the better. “Please leave,” he implored, exhausted by the conversation.

“Right. Leaving!” Robert opened the door and walked off without shutting the door behind him. Typical.

Stannis sighed and got up to shut the door. He still had a pile of reports to get through. Especially if he was going to take time off tomorrow night to take Sansa to see a classic film at the cinema she had told him about.

Before he read more reports though, he needed to call the security company.

***

“So, what was that rescue phone call about today?” Margaery immediately asked when Sansa called her, “I know you weren’t on some awkward blind date.”

Sansa wasn’t sure how much she should divulge to her friend, but thought it would probably be okay to tell her everything as long as she kept the details vague.

“I was meeting Mr. Baelish, and I really didn’t want to keep talking to him for any longer than I needed to,” Sansa explained.

“Mr. Baelish? The creepy chancellor guy?” Margaery sounded like she was searching her memory intently.

“Yep, that’s him,” Sansa confirmed, “he’s going to invest in a business deal that might really hurt a lot of people. Stannis is the only person standing in the way of it happening. Stannis and Davos were talking about it at the dinner party this weekend.”

“You mean you remember anything that happened before you _made love_?” Margaery teased, placing a gentle mocking emphasis on the phrase Sansa generally used to describe being intimate.

Sansa felt herself redden a little, both embarrassed and a little annoyed at being mocked.

“Stop it, Margaery. Of course I remember.” Sansa tried to sound serious and no-nonsense, but Margaery just laughed.

“Sorry, you’re too easy to tease. Pray continue your story!” Margaery’s apology did not sound very genuine, but Sansa took it at face value anyway.

“Stannis and Davos had no idea why Mr. Baelish might want to be involved in the business deal in question, so I decided to find out for them!” She knew she sounded triumphant, and she thought she fully deserved to be pleased with herself. Her plan had worked beautifully, and she had been in no danger. She couldn’t wait to tell Stannis what she had found out!

“I invited Mr. Baelish to meet me at a café to talk about how awful I feel about all the gossip that’s being posted about me and Stannis -- I told you he sent me a couple of messages about his shoulder being available for me to cry on, right?” Margaery nodded and Sansa continued, “I managed to get him talking about the business deal instead, and he actually told me why he wants to be involved.”

“Wow, I never would have expected you to do something so sneaky!” Margaery exclaimed admiringly.

“Me, neither! But I just really wanted to help Stannis,” Sansa sighed happily.

“You are so ridiculously in love, I may have to stop talking to you. I thought Loras and Renly were bad!” Margaery complained, but not really managing to mask her amused fondness.

“Do you want me to set you up with Jon?” Sansa offered, knowing that Margaery considered Jon to be very handsome. As for Jon… He could use with some cheering up. Sansa had never asked, but she had a feeling that Jon had been so understanding when Joffrey broke her heart, because he had suffered heartbreak too.

“Don’t be silly! I’m perfectly happy to be single. I have absolutely not wish to settle down.” Margaery sounded absolutely certain, and Sansa believed her. “Anyway, I want you to tell me what you plan to do with Stannis next time you see him,” Margaery said suggestively.

Sansa pretended to misunderstand and told her that Stannis was going to take her to the movies tomorrow evening.

“You know what I mean, Sansa! You’re going to jump his bones, right? I gave you twenty-four condoms, I expect you to use them!” Margaery said, affecting an imperious tone.

Sansa blushed and was glad that Margaery could not see. “I don’t know! It’s private.”

“If you give him a blow-job, be careful of your teeth. Guys are sensitive down there. Also, I don’t recommend trying to deep-throat your first time out.” Margaery’s was obviously trying to give her serious advice, but Sansa was too embarrassed to really appreciate it.

“Margaery! Please stop talking!” Sansa begged her urgently, voice high-pitched and nervous.

“You’re right, you should save it until you need to distract him thoroughly. The first time you offer to go down on him he will literally forget everything and probably come as soon as you get on your knees.” Margaery was talking as if Sansa was not currently dying of embarrassment.

Still, Sansa was a little intrigued by Margaery’s words. Why would he forget everything? It was enough to make her take a deep breath, disregard her nerves, and ask.

“What do you mean?” Sansa attempted to sound nonchalantly curious.

“Guys love getting head more than anything. They love it more than sex. It’s because if blow-jobs are done right, I’m pretty sure they’re _better_ than sex for them. So if you ever want to take him completely by surprise, or make him forget all about something you’d rather not discuss… It will do the trick,” Margaery explained, sounding wickedly amused.

“Isn’t that a bit dishonest, though?” Sansa asked, biting her lip.

“Probably, but all is fair in love and war,” Margaery flippantly replied.

Sansa silently swore to herself that she would never to use sex, or anything sexual, against Stannis in order to get her way. Using it just to surprise him, or distract him from work, however… She might try that. The idea was exciting, but she doubted she would have a chance to put it into action anytime soon.

“I’m not sure the Geneva Conventions agree with you, there,” Sansa said wryly, “anyway, I should go. Please don’t talk about the whole Mr. Baelish thing with anyone.”

“I’ll be silent as the grave, you know me,” Margaery promised cheerfully, “have fun at the movies tomorrow. And have lots of sex. Bye!” She ended the call without giving Sansa a chance to answer. 

Sansa shook her head and lowered the phone from her ear. She really wouldn’t mind an opportunity for a repeat performance of Saturday night. Hopefully it would be easier the second time around, and leave her less sore the morning after. They’d have to make sure not to fall asleep after, though. She did not fancy another awkward conversation with her father.

Sansa put her thoughts of Stannis aside and attempted to focus on reading. At first she read some of her text books, but she was too tired to concentrate, so she ended up digging out her favourite romantic novel instead. It didn’t have any graphic love scenes at all, as it had been written by an unmarried woman in the Regency era, but it was a classic, and Sansa loved it.

It was quite late when Sansa, who had been nodding off right in the middle of a pivotal proposal scene, was startled into frightened consciousness by an unusual noise at her window.

She dropped her book, sat up and listened intently. There was silence. She was just starting to relax, and was thinking about picking her book back up, when she heard it again. This time she was sure it had been the sound of something hitting her window.

Sansa stood up and hurried to look outside. At first she didn’t see anything, but it was hard to make anything out while it was bright inside her room and dark outside. She turned off all her lights and looked again. That’s when she spotted the familiar car. She’d seen it often enough, and been inside it on several occasions. It was Sandor’s car. He had been the only one in Joffrey’s gang who had been old enough to drive when Sansa had been with her ex. She could even see Sandor’s outline in the driver’s seat. He was sitting rather still, but her eyesight was good, and she knew what to look for. He must have been throwing pebbles at her window as if he were a character from a film!

She tried to imagine what he was doing outside her house. He must want to speak to her. Did he expect her to come outside to talk to him? That had to be it. He had to know that no one in her family would welcome him into the house. Anyway, it was much too late in the evening to knock on the front door.

Sansa hesitated briefly, but decided that she had to talk to him. He would not have come all this way unless he had a very good reason. She was a little intimidated by Sandor, as she had always been, but she did not fear that he would hurt her. He had always been kind to her, in his own rough sort of way.

It was easy to sneak outside without her family noticing. Most of them were asleep, or at least hidden away in their own rooms. Still, she made sure to move quietly, and to close the front door behind her without making a noise.

A quick, short walk later she was getting into the passenger seat of Sandor’s old DeSoto.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, too uneasy to bother with the pleasantries. Sandor never cared for polite, empty phrases, anyway. He had that in common with Stannis.

He was sitting stiffly in his seat, his shoulders squared in defiance, his face brooding, eyes fixed on a spot somewhere far off in the distance. He had never been Joffrey’s most talkative ‘friend’, so Sansa was not surprised at his sullen silence.

“Came to tell you something that I think you ought to know, little bird,” Sandor rumbled after the silence had stretched to the point where Sansa had been about to repeat her question.

“Oh,” she paused, unsure of herself, “that’s all right, I suppose. What is it?” Sansa continued, still a little lost, but curious. What could Sandor possibly want to tell her? Was it a message from Joffrey?

Sandor dug around in his pocket and pulled his phone out. He fiddled with it for a moment, and then handed her the device. The bright screen illuminated his face before she accepted it, and she could see how tired, bitter and angry he looked -- his scars standing out in sharp relief.

The screen was displaying a photograph. It was of her. She recognised the picture immediately as one of the few she had taken and sent to Joffrey while they had been together. She was topless, blushing, and her eyes were looking down and off to the side. She looked achingly young and vulnerable.

“Why do you have this?” Sansa asked, shocked and angry, “why are you showing it to me?”

Sandor was still staring off into the distance. Instead of answering her, he drew out a crumpled pack of smokes, pulled a half-smoked cigarette out of it, and lit it with a practised movement. Sansa recognised the lighter. It was gold plated -- a gift from Joffrey. _More like a bribe…_

Sansa rolled the window down, annoyed that she would have to get in the shower the minute she returned to the house. Otherwise her mother would notice the smell.

“You know the spoiled fuckin’ arse showed these around,” he finally said.

“Yes, but why do you still have this? Why are you showing me _now_?” Sansa was growing very impatient and frustrated with his mysterious act.

“I was at his house the other day. His bitch mother came by and asked him for the pictures. It did not sound like she was up to anything good.” Sandor finally looked at her, his eyes piercing and fierce. They were filled with a powerful loathing, which Sansa hoped it was directed at Joffrey and Cersei, and worried concern.

“Just thought you should know.” He inhaled deeply, holding the cigarette between thumb and forefinger. When he blew the smoke out, it came out his mouth and his nostrils, making him look a little demonic in the faint light.

Sansa felt stunned. Why would Cersei want topless pictures of her?

She turned the problem over in her mind, thinking back to her last encounters with the woman. Sansa felt as if her heart had been clasped by an icy fist when she remembered what she had overheard Cersei saying at the benefit.

_’... if he doesn't sabotage this little dalliance with the Stark girl on his own, I'm going to do it for him.’_

Sansa could not imagine how exactly Cersei planned to use the pictures to sabotage her relationship with Stannis, but she could see no other reason for the woman to want them.

“Thank you for telling me,” Sansa whispered, feeling almost paralyzed by the fear of what Cersei might do. Despite her fear, she was grateful for Sandor’s warning. She’d have time to prepare herself, now. She thought it was very odd that Sandor would drive all the way to Wintefell just to deliver a message, however.

“Why didn’t you just send me a message online? Or text?” she wondered out loud.

Sandor wound his own window down and flicked the butt of his cigarette into the night.

“I always liked you, little bird,” Sandor rubbed the burn marks on his face, “you treated me decent, despite - despite everything.”

Sansa did not know that she had ever had a reason to treat him badly. Sure, Sandor had been Joffrey’s ‘friend’, but it had always been obvious to her that Joffrey used Sandor as a bodyguard, and bribed him with things that he wanted or needed in return. Sandor did not come from an affluent, rich family. She did not blame him for wanting access to the kind of lifestyle that his ‘friendship’ with Joffrey granted him.

“I suppose I wanted to see you. Tell you in person,” Sandor continued gruffly. “Anyway, I don’t have your number and I didn’t know if you’d read a message from me online,” he muttered, shrugging.

“Of course I would have,” Sansa told him sincerely. She was still holding his phone in her hand, and feeling a stroke of inspiration, she entered her number and called herself. Her phone started ringing in her back pocket, the sound muffled since she was sitting on it, and she ended the call from Sandor’s phone. “There. Now you have my number.” She smiled at him, hoping to encourage a positive response. “Please let me know if anything else like this happens. Or if you just want to talk.” Sansa hesitated. She was still a little intimidated by Sandor, and did not know if she should be extending her hand in friendship. What if he bit it off? She decided it was worth the risk.“I always liked you, too,” she admitted it shyly, but decisively.

In the faint light from the streetlamps outside it was hard to tell what he might be thinking or feeling, but Sansa thought she saw him relax slightly.

“Sure,” he muttered, and unless Sansa was imagining things, he sounded pleased, “you should fly back to your nest, little bird.”

“You’re probably right.” Sansa glanced at her house and hoped that no one had noticed her disappearance. With another small, but genuine, smile at Sandor, she got out of the car, and whispered, “good night!” through the still-open window.

Sandor stared at her with a strange, longing expression on his face and a wretched look in his eyes.

He looked away. “You can tell the old bastard you’re seeing that if he hurts you, I’ll come for him,” Sandor growled threateningly.

Immediately after the words left his mouth, he started the car and drove off.

Sansa was left standing in the road, her heart beating unusually fast, her lips parted in surprise, and a lonely cigarette butt not far from her feet.


	23. Heat wave

Thursday turned out to be one of the hottest days of the summer. Stannis did not mind the heat when he was in Dorne, close to the ocean and able to spend most of his days on the water, but in King’s Landing the heat was intolerable. The tall buildings in midtown, where Dragonstone Tower was located, caused everything to feel more claustrophobic and stuffy in the heat. Even with the A/C running on full blast in his car and in his office, he could not avoid the record temperature entirely. He had needed to break out his emergency change of clothing by the time he got to his desk due to sweating so much on the way from the car. He had only bothered to change his shirt, however, not wanting to waste time changing his entire suit.

He was grateful to have the cinema with Sansa to look forward to that evening, because getting his employees to focus on work in the infernal heat was almost impossible. By the time he was heading home in the late afternoon, he was exhausted and irritated.

His feelings changed to surprise as soon as he approached the front door of his apartment building. There he could see two very sparsely dressed young ladies, one of which he knew from a distance to be Sansa, and he correctly guessed that the other one was Margaery Tyrell.

The two of them had large sunglasses on, and were sitting on a low fence, seemingly _enjoying_ the heat and the sun. They had not spotted him yet, so he used the opportunity to admire Sansa, getting his fill of staring so that his eyes would not stray when he drew closer and spoke to her. Sansa was wearing a very short denim skirt, a revealing top made out of very flimsy material, and a pair of sandals with an overabundance of straps. Her long legs looked smooth and shone with what Stannis certainly hoped was recently applied sunscreen, her cleavage, her face and her arms were glistening similarly. Her hair, glowing copper in the sun, had been gathered up into a high ponytail, leaving her neck and her shoulders exposed.

He’d seen her in less - he’d seen her naked - but there was something very enticing about Sansa in a very short skirt. Something very _accessible._

Feeling a little out of sorts, he walked up to the two women, clearing his throat to announce his presence.

“Stannis!” Sansa exclaimed in delight. She lifted her sunglasses, allowing him to see the joyful look in her eyes. He was still amazed at how happy she always seemed to see him. No one was ever this happy to see him.

“Margaery and I were just at the swimming pool. I thought I’d come here since we finished, rather than have Margaery drive me all the way home. Saves you the trouble of picking me up, too,” she explained brightly, smiling her sunny smile.

As much as he was grateful for Margaery’s foresight last Saturday, he wished she would leave so that he could kiss Sansa in peace.

“I know the film doesn’t start until two hours from now, but I thought you might want to grab something to eat first,” Sansa continued talking, obviously making up for the fact that he was just silently looking at her beautiful face, consumed by the urge to kiss her.

Despite Sansa’s attempt to fill the silence, there was a long pause where no one said anything. Sansa started to blush at the way he was unable to stop staring at her, and Margaery pretended to check the time by looking at her naked wrist.

“I can see that I’m not needed here anymore, so I’ll be off. Have fun tonight. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Margaery winked at them and sauntered off. Sansa laughed and waved goodbye to her friend.

Stannis used his peripheral vision to note when Margaery was out of sight, and as soon as she was, he bent to kiss Sansa hungrily. She tasted like some sort of fruity lip balm and she smelled strongly of sunscreen, but her lips were soft and her mouth was yielding, opening to him and offering everything she had to give.

They kissed until they ran out of breath. Sansa seemed keen to continue regardless, but Stannis suddenly remembered that they were outside, and that there might be photographers. Hopefully they were taking a day off due to the heat.

He ushered them into the building, holding himself back from her in the lift, recalling the security cameras. He appreciated the job his doorman did, but he did not particularly want to reward the man with a show.

In his haste to open his apartment door he nearly dropped his keys, but caught them at the last moment. Sansa pretended not to notice. As soon as they were inside they were kissing again, and Stannis let his hands wander down her sides to her waist, pulling her flush against him. He had his back to the front door, having used his weight to lean against it and close it, and now he really did drop the keys to the floor so that he could splay his fingers against the small of Sansa’s back. He was hard already, and let his hands travel to her hips so that he could pull her forward and grind himself against her. She gasped against his lips when he did, and her hands - which had only been clinging on to his shoulders - wrapped around his neck to bring their chests into even closer contact.

The feel of her breasts pressed so firmly against him was maddeningly wonderful, and he kissed her all the harder, allowing his hands to go even lower than her hips, discovering that her denim skirt had back pockets and putting his hands inside them. He squeezing slightly, enjoying the feel of her supple curves. She moaned into their kiss, obviously liking his hands there.

Stannis was just trying to figure out how to move them to the bedroom when Sansa reluctantly broke the kiss, stepping away from him. He searched her face for clues, wondering if he had done something she did not like, but she looked utterly aroused and not upset at all.

“I have a couple of things I should tell you before we get too carried away, otherwise I may forget.” She smiled at him, but his ardour was instantly cooled at the idea of what she might be about to tell him. It couldn’t be anything good, could it?

He moved to sit on the nearest sofa, looking at her warily. She sat down next to him, but did not cuddle up to him as she so often did. Instead she wrapped her arms around herself, obviously feeling a little chill in his heavily air conditioned apartment. He tried not to stare at the most obvious evidence of her being cold, forcing his eyes to stay on her face.

“I’m just going to say it. Please don’t be mad at me. Nothing bad happened, I promise,” Sansa started, making him instantly worried about what was to come. He tried not to let his worry show on his face, and nodded at her to continue.

She took a deep breath. “I met with Mr. Baelish yesterday.” She looked at him nervously, obviously expecting a response.

Annoyance, irrational jealousy, and concern fought for dominance in his mind. Why would she willingly expose herself to that man? He decided not to say anything until he knew more, it would not do to start an argument without all the facts. Instead of saying anything, he nodded again.

Sansa bit her lip. It was very distracting. “I got him to tell me why he’s helping Mr. Greyjoy.” She glanced at him, obviously hoping for approval. He liked that look on her face, but not the reason it was there. “He said it was mostly because Mr. Greyjoy had a business plan which would allow him to ‘increase the profit margins’, but he also said that he liked the idea of inconveniencing you in the process. He kind of suggested that he was annoyed with you for dating me, but that might just have been his idea of flirting.” Sansa was blushing faintly, still biting her lip, and she was still looking at him with hopeful eyes, seeking his praise and approval.

If she had been looking at him like that for any other reason, he would have been groaning and trying to keep from touching himself. It was so much like the look he tended to imagine on her face in some of his fantasies, but as she was asking for his approval regarding her harebrained scheme to talk to Littlefinger on her own, pumping the dangerous man for information, he couldn’t quite resolve his feelings on the matter. Did she not understand that Baelish could have realised what she was doing? Could have assumed that Stannis had sent her? Could have fed her lies? Got angry with her and taken it out on her academic career once she started school? _Or worse…_

Still, what Sansa told him made sense. Baelish would never spend money unless he stood to make even more money, and if he was annoyed with Stannis, it would certainly appeal to Baelish to fund an operation that would undo years of his and Eddard’s careful work restoring the fishing industry in Pyke to a flourishing, sustainable state. It surprised Stannis that Baelish could be _that_ annoyed with him, however. If it had been Eddard, it would make more sense -- Baelish was infamously besotted with Catelyn Stark. Had Baelish moved his obsession on to Sansa? If that was true, Stannis felt even worse about the idea of Sansa meeting the man by herself.

“I told you not to get involved with Baelish,” he snapped, his irritation and jealousy winning out.

Sansa looked at him as if he had struck her. It made his stomach flip upside down to see it, but he clenched his jaw and continued anyway. “The man is not to be underestimated. He probably realised what you were doing right away. There is no reason to believe anything he said to you.”

Sansa continued to look hurt by his words, worrying at her lower lip and hugging herself tighter.

“I thought you’d be pleased,” she said in a small voice, “I thought you wanted to know why he was helping Mr. Greyjoy.” Her eyes looked very wide, and blue, and sad. It was very unfair of her to look at him like that. How could he possibly stay irritated?

“It doesn’t matter to me nearly as much as your safety.” His voice was softening in response to her tremulous little looks, and he reached for her, trying to comfort her with his touch.

“I was safe!” Sansa argued earnestly, “I met him in a public place where there would be a lot of people around, and I got Margaery to call me and pretend to be my mother asking me to come home as soon as I wanted to leave!”

Stannis nodded seriously, considering her words. She had obviously attempted to be as safe as she could be, he could appreciate that. Still, he wished to impress upon her that she shouldn’t take such a risk again.

“I understand.” Stannis moved to envelope her in his arms, surprised at how cold her skin had become. She eagerly pressed herself to him, whether to seek comfort or warmth he did not know. “Please don’t do anything like that again,” he asked, firmly but gently.

“You’re not the boss of me,” she mumbled halfheartedly into his shirt, “but okay.”

He huffed out a short laugh and held her tighter.

“There’s another thing I should probably tell you,” Sansa said after they had simply held each other for a while. Stannis felt himself tense up. Was she trying to give him an ulcer?

“Do you know who Sandor Clegane is?” she asked.

“I can’t recall that name,” he admitted warily. It sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

“He’s a friend of Joffrey’s,” Sansa said quietly, “he’s the one who made sure Joffrey wouldn’t post the pictures I told you about online. You know, the topless ones,” she reminded him, sounding vulnerable and sad. At the mention of pictures, Stannis started to feel a strong sense of foreboding.

“He dropped by my house last night to tell me something.” She shivered, and Stannis did not know if it was due to what she was saying, or whether it was simply from the cold. “He said that Cersei had asked Joffrey to give her the pictures. He said it didn’t sound like she was up to anything good.” Sansa had been speaking into his chest for the most part, but now she pushed herself away so that she could look at him.

“I know I should have told you this ages ago, but remember when I told you that I had overheard Cersei say that she blamed you for ruining her marriage with Robert?” Sansa watched him for a sign that he remembered, and when he nodded she continued. “I also heard her say that she was looking forward to seeing our relationship end soon, and that she would sabotage it if it didn’t.” She was was looking at him with a worried, guilty expression, brow slightly furrowed, lips tightly pressed together. “I’m afraid she’s going to use those pictures to ruin everything! And it will be all my fault for having been stupid enough to take them and give them to Joffrey. I’m so sorry!”

Her words had come out in an emotional rush, and Stannis noticed with alarm that Sansa was tearing up.

“Please don’t cry,” he said awkwardly, trying to think. He was almost certain that he now knew which pictures Cersei had showed Melisandre, and that they were going to use them to force his hand regarding the Greyjoy deal. The most obvious thing to do would be to plant them on his computer, or print them out and plant physical copies in his office or the apartment. If they could make it look like he was in the possession of what certainly might count as child pornography, it would place him in a very precarious situation indeed. He’d need a counter move.

“None of this is your fault, Sansa. Understand?” he told her decisively, meeting her eyes and making sure she paid attention to his words. He knew how important it was for her to know that she was not to blame. Even if she had not been emotionally manipulated into taking the pictures in the first place, she would not have been to blame. Joffrey was to blame for abusing the trust she placed in him and distributing the private pictures. It made him feel murderous to think of it, but anger would not serve Sansa at the moment. He needed to be calm, and he needed to make sure she knew she had done nothing wrong.

He pulled her into his arms again, trying to tell her with his touch what he did not know how to say with words. She clung to him, and shook with restrained emotion.

Stannis had never been good with emotional displays, especially crying. Whenever Shireen had cried as a child, Selyse had handled it. Or the nanny. There just didn’t seem to be anything one could _say_ to make it stop. Which was intolerable and uncomfortable.

However, he found that the longer he simply held her and said nothing, the less she shook. Finally, she shifted back so that she could look at him again. Her eyes were still a bit glassy, but she looked determined.

“What should we do?” she asked. She did not sound despairing, but more as if she were hoping for a plan of action. This pleased Stannis immensely. There was no point in being upset. Better to develop a strategy to salvage the situation.

“I know that Melisandre is working on some sort of scheme that is supposed to force me to sign the Pyke properties over to Greyjoy. She met with Cersei recently, and Cersei showed her unidentified pictures, which I now believe to be the pictures of you. They plan to incorporate them into the scheme, forcing me to sign over the properties and also to end my relationship with you. Davos has surveillance data which proves this much.” Stannis paused, thinking hard.

Sansa blanched at his words, especially at the fact that part of the scheme was to end their relationship. “I won’t let them force me to do anything, Sansa,” he told her fiercely, meeting her eyes and making sure she understood how deeply he meant what he said.

She took a deep breath and nodded, appearing reassured.

“I hate to ask, but do you still have the original picture files?” he hoped this was not an indelicate question to ask.

“Yes, I think they’re still on my old phone. I’m terrible at deleting stuff,” Sansa shrugged, “why?”

“It might be important to be able to prove that the photos were originally taken on a device that you own, and sent only to Joffrey,” Stannis explained, already planning ahead, trying to figure out what his next moves should be.

“If you could make sure you still have them, and let me know, that would be a vital first step,” he told Sansa thoughtfully, and she nodded importantly.

“I’ll check as soon as I’m home,” she promised.

He nodded. “Good.” He could see that she could still use some encouragement, and he tried to think of something positive to say.

“It was very fortunate that you told me this, I believe you have averted a disaster,” he said sincerely. It truly would have been disastrous if Sansa’s pictures could have been used to blindside him.

“I wouldn’t have known if it hadn’t been for Sandor.” Sansa did not seem willing to accept praise she believed belonged to another. An admirable trait, Stannis thought. It did make him wonder at Sansa’s relationship with the boy, however. Had there been more to it than friendship for the boy to inform her so loyally, going against the Lannisters? A pang of jealousy shot through him, but he tried to ignore it. Or was he perhaps loyal to the Lannisters? Had he been sent to misinform Sansa?

“Do you have any idea why Clegane would want to help you?” Stannis asked, not really wishing to pry because he knew he sounded like a jealous twit, but knowing that he had to rule out the possibility of the boy having been sent to give Sansa misleading information. As small as the chance of that might be.

Sansa blushed, fanning the flames of his jealousy, and she nodded.

“He said he always liked me,” she explained shyly.

Stannis felt himself scowling. Of course that was it. No one could spend five minutes around Sansa and not like her. For a horny teenage boy it was probably more like five seconds. A possessive rage reared its ugly head inside his chest, urging him to interrogate her about her meeting with the boy. Had he touched her? Said anything inappropriate? His scowl deepened at the idea of the boy doing anything at all that made her uncomfortable. He was still grappling with the beastly impulse when Sansa spoke.

“He’s always intimidated me a little, probably because he has these awful scars, and he’s very big, but he was never like the others. He tried to help me, when he could.” Sansa spoke quietly, a bittersweet smile on her face. “I think he just wants to protect me.” She looked at him, as if unsure whether to say more. He tried to wipe the scowl off his face to encourage her. It didn’t work. She kept hesitating. 

“I think - I think he even wants to protect me from you. He said he’d come for you if you ever hurt me,” she finally said, her curiosity regarding his reaction apparently winning over her apprehension.

He raised an eyebrow. The day he would feel threatened by some teenage bully was the day he would pack it all in and retire to Robert’s beach house.

“Indeed,” he scoffed, “but you trust his motives?” It was better to make sure.

“Yes, like I said, he was never like the others.” She spoke with a degree of fondness that irritated him. It made him want to kiss her aggressively, touch her everywhere and stake his claim. He knew he was being primitive, so he ruthlessly suppressed the impulse. He would not prevent Sansa from having friends, and he would not sink to the level of being jealous of a common thug -- no matter how fondly Sansa spoke of him.

Sansa was looking at him shrewdly, and he wondered if she could tell that he was struggling with jealousy and possessive impulses. He really hoped not. It was embarrassing to be jealous of such a non-entity.

“I don’t think I have anything else upsetting to tell you,” she said, a weak smile indicating that she was attempting to find the humour in the situation.

“That’s a relief,” Stannis said, genuinely glad that he would not have to find his way through more difficult conversations.

She rested her cheek against his chest and wrapped and arm around his middle. He embraced her in return, still surprised at how cold her skin had become. Perhaps he should adjust the A/C? He considered it for a moment, but when she seemed content to soak up his warmth, he kept still.

Several long moments went by. They kept silent, Sansa occasionally pressing herself even closer to him, which he enjoyed. Stannis thought about the new information Sansa had given him, processing, categorising, forming strategies. Hopefully he would be able to use the information to navigate the upcoming storm safely.

“I liked what you did earlier - with your hands in my pockets,” Sansa suddenly told him, sounding a little embarrassed to admit it. He was confused for a moment, unable to process the quick change of subject, but he recovered quickly.

“Oh?” he prompted, experimentally letting his hands wander down her body where he could reach. She arched into his touch, clearly eager to resume the more pleasant activities they had been engaged in before she had told him about her encounters with Baelish and Sandor Clegane.

“Yes, it felt nice. Your hands always feel so nice.” She sighed with pleasure. “You like touching me, don’t you?” she asked curiously, as if she did not already know the answer.

“Of course,” he answered immediately, feeling a little bewildered that she would ask such a question.

“And you think about touching me, when I’m not here?”

Her questions were a little confusing, but arousing too, and he wanted to move her into his lap.

“Yes, I think about touching you at a lot of inopportune moments,” he admitted, tugging at her and hoping that she would crawl into his lap as she sometimes did.

“Which places do you think of the most?” she whispered, resisting his tugs.

“I think you know.” Stannis decided to turn the tables. She was always asking him about his thoughts about her, even getting him to tell her his fantasies, he wanted to know what was going on in her mind for a change.

“Do you think about me?” he asked, stroking her bare thighs.

“Yes, all the time,” she admitted, seemingly eager to answer his questions. Maybe she had been hoping he would ask her? Or perhaps she just liked it when he showed an interest?

“What do you think about?” He was genuinely curious.

“Things we’ve done, things I want to try out… Sometimes Margaery tells me about things and I wonder if it’s anything like she says. I wonder what it would be like with you.” She was talking into his shirt again, and he had to listen carefully to make everything she said out.

“What would you like to try out?” Stannis could feel his cock twitch against his trousers in anticipation.

“Oh, _everything_ I guess,” she mumbled, sounding a little embarrassed now. Her words had sped his heart up considerably. What did she mean by _everything_? Was she talking about sex positions? Oral sex? Sex toys?

“What do you mean by that?” his voice was hoarse now, strained and very _very_ curious.

“I want to try anything you want,” she whispered, and Stannis was sure he’d never heard anyone say anything more sensual. Had she any idea how enticing she sounded?

“That’s a dangerous thing to say,” he managed to choke out, even though he was feeling a little speechless.

“I don’t think you’d want to try anything that I wouldn’t like.” The trust in her voice was absolute, and Stannis felt completely unworthy of it. If she knew what sort of depraved images his mind came up with when he was _almost there_ he was not sure she would trust him so.

He needed to put the focus on what she wanted and go from there. It was far too dangerous for him to start trying to live out his fantasies yet. She was far from ready for most of it, he was fairly sure.

“I’ve told you some of my fantasies - “ Stannis began, but Sansa cut him off. “They don’t scare me. I like them.” 

Gods, he desperately needed her to be on his lap. He needed some kind of relief from the insistent pressure of his erection. He could barely think anymore!

He manhandled her into straddling him, while she giggled and moaned at his clumsy fumbling of her limbs. Her skirt rode up, and he could see a flash of blue underwear before he pulled her down onto his groin, rubbing his erection against her until she was grinding right back down on him, moaning loudly.

The worst of his need satisfied, he though he might try to finish what he had been trying to say before she interrupted. “I’ve told you some of my fantasies, but I’m curious - have you had any of your own?”

He watched her face for her reaction, and was pleased to see her blush. That had to mean she had fantasised about him, he thought. She squirmed around enjoyably, and he decided to put his hands where she had just told him she liked them to keep her from getting away. Her skirt was too bunched up for him to make use of the back pockets again, so he touched her bare skin instead, palming the soft, yet firm flesh. She yelped a little at his touch, but it turned into a moan of pleasure when he used his grip to grind her more firmly against himself. She had to be wearing very small underwear indeed for so much of her to be bare, he thought.

“Yes,” she finally admitted, her face burning red. He might have left it at that, but her eyes spoke of arousal more than embarrassment, so he decided to press on.

“Would you care to share one?” he asked, and started kissing and sucking on her neck, not really caring whether he would leave a mark. The sounds she made egged him on.

“You’ll think it’s silly,” she gasped out.

“I guarantee I won’t,” he promised, completely aroused by the idea of hearing anything she had to say.

“You can’t guarantee that!” she squealed as he sucked on a particularly sensitive spot low on her neck.

“I swear, nothing you say will be laughed at. That I can guarantee,” he growled, impatient to hear her fantasy.

“You swear?” She sounded a little uncertain, but he knew he had convinced her. 

“Yes, I swear on Shireen’s life. Tell me.” He used a slightly commanding tone on a gut feeling. The feeling told him she might respond to it better than she would a pleading tone. Judging by the way her hips moved, he had made the right choice.

“Last week, after all that gossip started, I started thinking about what it would have been like if we had been alive in a different time - and what it would have been like if we had _actually_ been arranged to marry.” Her words tumbled out in a rush, but they were clear enough. He wanted to stare at her incredulously, but he wanted her to continue speaking more, so he continued kissing her neck, only making an encouraging sound to get her to keep going.

_What on earth could be arousing about an arranged marriage?_

“I thought about how we might have misunderstood each other, because I think I would have been a little frightened of you at first - although I would have liked you, of course - and you would have taken my reserve for dislike.” Sansa broke off with a breathy sigh in response to his kisses. It almost made him want to stop kissing her, to help her focus. He wanted her to keep telling the story.

“But I thought you - um - you wouldn’t want to break our engagement because you were so attracted to me.” She sounded very embarrassed, so he was careful not to seem amused in any way. In fact, he thought it was a very accurate fantasy. He could not imagine any universe where he might be prevailed upon to give her up, once she was promised to him. Certainly not if he was not _sure_ that she disliked him.

“And then I thought about what the wedding night would be like.” She hesitated.

“What was it like?” he prompted when she did not continue. His voice sounded raspy and almost foreign with lust. He could barely recognise it as his own.

“Well, at first I would expect you just to, you know, demand that we consummate the marriage no matter what. Then I thought that you would offer to wait until I was ready, but I’d want to go ahead. So I would undress in front of you.” She paused, breathing heavily.

“I expect I liked that,” he whispered hoarsely, hoping she would tell him more. He was starting to get really into the tale she was spinning, and thought he had been wrong to doubt how arousing her fantasy could be.

“Yes, you carried me to bed after that,” she admitted shyly, “You told me you loved me and…” she trailed off hesitantly.

“Yes?” He really wanted to know.

“Ravished me like in one of my books.” She moved her hands up to hide her face. Stannis was reluctant to remove his hands from where they were, but he decided he could spare one to pull her hands away from her blushing cheeks. He kissed each warm side of her face.

“I haven’t read any of your books, you will have to explain in more detail.” He could tell that his request was pushing her, but going by the way she was squirming and writhing against his cock she didn’t mind _too_ much.

“I imagined that you would use your fingers, like you did at the beach house, and then I thought you might use your - your mouth. Until I couldn’t stand it anymore, until I begged you to use your - um - your cock.” She sounded both shy and turned on, a little embarrassed at her words but excited by them too.

Stannis couldn’t take it. He stood up and carried her to bed. She made a small high pitched noise of surprise, but grabbed onto him for balance as she had done before - her legs wrapping around his middle, her arms about his neck.

“Stannis, we’re not going to have time to eat before the film starts!” she laughed when she had found her balance.

He kissed her as he pushed his bedroom door open. “I’ll buy you all the concessions you want at the cinema.”

Stannis dropped her onto his bed, following closely in her wake.

“Now, how did you want me to use my cock?” He had pushed her skirt all the way up over her hips and was impatiently pulling her underwear off. She was flushed, and her breasts were straining against the fabric of her bra and that flimsy top with every breath she took. Her ponytail was becoming messy, locks of hair escaping it and falling about her face. She looked too gorgeous to be real, and he needed to be inside of her.

“First you went slowly, because I was new at it and couldn’t take all of you at once.” She explained in her breathy voice, her eyes following his hands as he quickly loosened his tie, unbuttoned his shirt and attacked the fly of his trousers, trying to get his cock free as fast as he humanly could. Her words were making him want to go faster than even that.

With his shirt open, his tie loosened but still knotted around his neck, his trousers open, underwear pushed down, and his erection _finally_ free of its confines, he gave up on undressing himself further and opened the drawer where the condoms had ended up. He fumbled with the packet for a little while, and then he fumbled some more with the annoying latex, but soon enough it was on, and he settled himself between her legs. He touched her between her folds to check whether she was ready, and groaned with suppressed need when he felt how wet she was.

He looked at her, seeking permission. She nodded, her eyes black with lust.

Stannis positioned himself at her entrance and started to sink slowly into her heat. Sansa was already lifting her thighs, bringing them closer to her body, giving him better access, moaning with pleasure.

It was easier to get inside than last time, but she was still so excruciatingly tight that he couldn’t have gone fast if he had tried. He was compelled to go inch by agonisingly slow inch, while his entire body was on fire with the intense need to _thrust._

Finally, he was fully sheathed, and he looked at Sansa’s face questioningly. Her eyes were half lidded and her lips were parted to allow her fast, shallow breaths to escape. She gazed at him with lusty adoration and moaned. “It feels amazing - can’t even describe… so - mm - _full_ ” 

Had she been trying to purposefully stroke his ego she couldn’t have picked better words. His hips jerked forward involuntarily at her praise, and he started to withdraw, preparing a proper thrust forward.

“After I go slowly, what happens next?” he asked, having to use all of his concentration to both move his hips and speak at the same time. He sank into her again from about the half-way point, smoothly this time. She gasped. He started to repeat the motion, the slow pace so far from being enough for him.

“Oh - _Gods_ \- you kept building up to a faster - mm - and faster pace,” Sansa managed to explain between moans.

Stannis could definitely work with what she had said. He pulled almost completely out of her. “Let me know if something I do hurts you, _do not keep silent on my account,_ ” he commanded. He did not want her to suffer in silence as she had last time when he had lost control. He had sworn to himself that he would rather stop even if he was a hairs breadth from coming than hurt her again.

“I can’t imagine that it will hurt, it feels so good.” She lifted her hips impatiently, urging him to move.

He held back, not giving her what she so gratifyingly wanted. “None the less, I want you to promise.” Every muscle in his body was tensed, and every instinct was _screaming_ at him to move forward. He was inside a warm, wet, willing woman. What was his malfunction?

“I promise, I promise!” Sansa cried out, raking her fingernails across his back, “ _please!_ ”

He couldn’t resist her pleading. In one smooth thrust, he was fully sheathed once more. Sansa tossed her head back and cried out, quite obviously with pleasure. A sound had escaped him too, although he had not meant for it to. It had been an embarrassing sort of grunt, and he hoped Sansa hadn’t noticed. He just hadn’t been able to help himself. She felt so ridiculously perfect, and he had been aching to bury himself in her in one stroke for a long time now.

Recovering his wits as the haze of pleasure started to clear a little, he started to do as she had asked, building a pace that went from slow to ever faster.

Sansa was very vocal, and she clung to his shoulders, clawed some more at his back, and even grabbed his arse, pulling him closer. It was very encouraging, and she seemed willing for more and more. He watched her face very carefully, but he could not detect any wincing or flinches.

The friction was delicious, if a bit dulled by the latex, but the tight grip of the condom actually felt rather pleasant at the base of his cock. Almost an extension of the even tighter grip of _her._ It was the most satisfying feeling to feel her body accept his, again and again as he steadily increased the pace of his thrusts. He particularly enjoyed the way she would grab at him when he was fully sheathed, trying to keep him deep within for a little longer. Sometimes she even gasped his name in a way that made him want to go much _much_ harder.

By the time he was going as fast as he thought was wise, he was too close to his peak to be able to watch her properly. He just had to trust that she would stop him if he hurt her. Still, he held back from using the kind of force he might have, had she been more experienced.

Sansa was crying out continuously now, calling his name and her ever polite _’please’_. Begging him not to stop. “Mm, Gods, more, don’t stop, _please_ , Stannis, _Stannis!_ ”

He felt his sac tightening up at her flattering, gratifying cries. He was so _very_ close.

She was clenching around him in a way he thought might mean she was climaxing, and the feel of her fluttering around him combined with the words tumbling from her lips... It was doing something to him, to his ego, that he had rarely experienced in his life. He felt absolutely powerful, larger than life, and impressive, no, _invincible._ It was an amazing high, and his orgasm, when it came, hardly compared -- though it was an earth-shattering release.

He rolled off to the side, disposing of the condom in a sort of trance, feeling dazed and half unconscious. Still, he remembered. “Are you all right?” he asked, hoping that she was, and that he had not been too blinded by his own pleasure to see.

“Mmm,” Sansa hummed without making any real words, but her tone was well pleased. And possibly satisfied? He hoped so.

“Did you… ?” he trailed off, feeling awkward about asking, but not wanting to assume and unintentionally leave her unfulfilled.

“I’m not sure, it felt very good - but different from anything I’ve felt before.” Her voice had a slightly dreamy quality. “Maybe with a little more time I would have been able to tell. I think we will have to practise this often.” She was obviously attempting to sound serious, but there was a giddy undertone to her words that ruined the effect.

The slight reprimand her words hinted at, that he had stopped too soon, was softened by her eager wish for more ’practise’. He was still a little irritated with his body for not lasting longer, though he knew better than to expect perfect, simultaneous orgasms her second time out of the gate.

He got to his side and trailed his hand over her form, lingering at her breasts - sticking his hand underneath the fabric that covered them - playing with her nipples until she squealed and shied away. “Too much! I’m too sensitive!” she exclaimed with a smile. He moved lower and started to stroke her gently between her legs. She closed her eyes at that, and parted her thighs a bit more to give him better access. It did not take him long to bring her to her peak, and he enjoyed watching her as she bucked helplessly against his hand, moaning and quivering.

He was much more interested in staying in bed with her for the next few hours than going to the cinema. He could have a nap, and then they could _’practise’_ some more.

“We’ll be late to the movie if we don’t go soon,” Sansa informed him, as if she had read his mind.

“Do you really want to go?” he asked, longing for that nap.

“Yes! I really want to go. I really want to see the film they’re screening tonight. It’s supposed to be amazing. Drama and intrigue aboard a train in China during a revolution!” She sounded excited and full of energy. Why didn’t she want a nap too? Had she stolen all his energy somehow?

He looked down at himself and then at her. Their clothes were in complete disarray. He’d need to have a quick shower and a complete change of clothes. Had she brought anything else to wear?

It turned out that she had. She had a fresh top and a change of underwear in the bag she had brought with her, along with the things she had needed for the pool. They both had incredibly quick showers, taking turns to avoid temptation, and dressed in fresh, or at least mostly fresh, clothes.

It had cooled a little outside, but the early evening was still hotter than most summer days. He dressed casually in jeans and a light shirt - the sleeves of which he rolled up to his elbows due to the heat - no tie, no jacket. She was still in her denim skirt, but in a slightly less flimsy top.

They made it to the cinema just in time, and Stannis bought Sansa an absurdly big tub of popcorn. It made her laugh when she saw it, and she told him that he was crazy and that she would never finish all of that. She turned out to be right, but she didn’t leave _that_ much of it behind.

After the movie ended, they wandered over to a nearby hole-in-the-wall greasy spoon to order something unhealthy and filling -- they were rather hungry for something other than popcorn at this point. They talked about the plot, the Chinese revolution it was set in, and the characters all the while.

Knowing that he’d only end up locking her in his bedroom if he took her back to his apartment this late in the evening, he offered to drive her home when they had eaten their fill. She looked ready to protest, but obviously thought better of it. She accepted his offer, and they continued their discussion of the film for most of the way to Winterfell. Though at some point it mutated into a history lesson regarding Chinese wars and revolutions.

Finally the topic was exhausted, and a comfortable silence fell in the car. Sansa looked out the window for a while, but eventually she spoke.

“You really didn’t think my fantasy was silly?”

Silly? Not at all. It had been far more involved and complex than most of his fantasies, which never really included much of a plot. Sometimes there were costumes, but never really any back-stories. Could she really doubt his enjoyment of her fantasy after hearing it had basically caused him to carry her off to bed and ravish her just as her fantasy had dictated?

He shifted in his seat uncomfortably, and knew he needed to stop thinking about ravishing her.

“No,” he said, not sure if he should voice the rest of his thoughts, “I quite liked it.”

“Me too. I mean, I liked that you liked it.” Sansa sounded a little flustered. He glanced at her before turning his eye back to the road. She was definitely blushing.

“I don’t think there’s much you could come up with that I wouldn’t like… “ He hoped that she understood his meaning.

“You mean in general, or fantasies and bedroom things?” she asked him to clarify, so he obviously hadn’t been specific enough.

“I suppose I could almost say both, but I was talking about he latter.” Stannis cleared his throat, feeling a bit awkward about this topic of conversation.

Sansa hummed in understanding and they fell silent again.

“I liked how you made me tell you more, and how you acted it out a little. I wanted you to never stop.” Her voice was slightly dreamy - just as it had been when they were still in bed - almost as if she were talking to herself.

Stannis wanted to pull the car over, feeling like he might drive into a tree if she surprised him with another statement like that.

He made himself keep focusing on the road as he thought of a suitable reply. He was very pleased that Sansa was confident enough to tell him what she liked as it was very helpful to know -- for future reference. He wanted to encourage her to keep telling him these things. Although he hoped it wouldn’t always be when he was driving.

“Any time.” He settled for the simple, inviting statement, making sure he spoke genuinely so that she would not mistake the phrase for empty politeness.

“I wish I could just stay with you. Then we could really do what we wanted _any time_ ,” Sansa sighed wistfully.

Stannis was immediately assaulted by mental images of having Sansa in every single room of his apartment, getting particularly stuck a rather racy image of her bent over the dining room table in her little denim skirt, but no underwear at all. He shifted around uncomfortably again. This was terrible timing.

“I can’t wait until I move to the dorms. I’ll be able to stay over nights with you. If you like, I could even stay over a weekend?” 

She was anticipating a future to their relationship even though she knew Cersei was trying to sabotage them? She obviously believed he would be able to fix it all. He liked the faith she was putting in his abilities, but worried that he would not be able to live up to her ideal.

He’d keep his worries to himself for now. She wanted to look forward to a time where she had more freedom to do as she pleased. He could understand that very well.

“Of course, you’d be welcome to stay as much as you wanted with me,” Stannis told her, not really surprised at how intensely he meant his words. He wouldn’t mind if she stayed with him permanently. He’d very much enjoy waking up next to her every morning.

“You don’t think you’d get sick of me stealing your food?” she teased, a playful tone in her voice. He glanced at her to see her eyes sparkling, wishing he could look for longer.

“I’d just order more delivered,” he told her easily. He liked the idea of stocking his fridge for her, making sure she had everything she needed, taking care of her… Maybe she would take care of him in return? Ask him about his day when he got home? Keep him company, and tell him off when he worked too much?

“Well, that’s all right then.” She sounded pleased, and she reached over the gearstick to place a hand on his thigh, squeezing lightly. He both wished and did not wish for her to go a little higher. He needed to concentrate, but he craved her touch. Was it normal to want her so much? So incessantly?

They passed the sign indicating that they had entered Winterfell, and Stannis could see the houses that were built on the outskirts of the town. Relief and disappointment warred within him. He was glad that he’d managed to drive her the whole way without incident, but he did not want to part from her company.

The last few minutes of their drive were pure torture. Stannis kept wanting to turn the car around, or pull over in a secluded place. He managed to stay the course, however, and all too soon they were parked in front of the Stark residence.

“Thank you for driving me. I know it’s probably a pain.” Sansa kissed him, a sweet thank you kiss.

“Not at all,” he said, wondering if he could convince her to stay in the car and continue to kiss him for the next hour or so.

“I’m going to get a car soon, and then you and Margaery will catch a break. Well, she hasn’t had to drive me that often since she only just got her car, but still.” Sansa looked like she didn’t want to leave him either, and he was sure she was talking just to prolong their time together.

He kissed her properly, cutting her off as she started to explain what sort of car Margaery had got, and why it was a silly, impractical car, and nothing like what _she_ planned to get.

She made a startled, pleased sort of noise, and melted against him -- leaning as far as she could without actually climbing into his lap. Not that he would have minded if she had. He quite liked having Sansa in his lap. She always fit so very well, and she was warm, and soft, and firm, and she smelled good.

She broke the kiss, giggling slightly. “I’m going to get beard burn!” She smiled at him, making sure he knew that she didn’t really mind. He reached to touch his face, and noticed that the texture was becoming quite the same as sandpaper. He tended to shave most mornings, but it grew back annoyingly quickly. Should he try to shave more often? Switch to a different method?

“I like the stubble, though. It looks sexy.” She must have noticed him worrying.

Did she really think it looked sexy? He looked at her, not really attempting to hide his surprise and his doubt.

She put her lips right up to his ear and whispered. “I think most things about you are sexy.” She kissed his ear, and pulled back, sitting demurely in her own seat as if she hadn’t just sent his heart into overdrive, and got his cock to stand to attention.

“Let’s talk soon about the weekend, okay?” She was talking casually now, making plans. He blinked at her, finding it difficult to follow the swift change in the mood.

“What? Yes, the weekend. All right. Just as you wish.” He cleared his throat and wondered if she would notice if he adjusted himself a little. The zipper on his fly was really digging into… things. Perhaps he could do it unnoticed as he walked around the car to open the door for her? Yes, that would work.

When she made to open the passenger side door herself, he quickly unbuckled himself and practically jumped out of the car. Feeling like the worst sort of typical _male_ he tried to shift things around to minimize his discomfort as he walked. Was it terrible of him to pervert this gentlemanly gesture by using it as a cover to deal with his uncomfortable erection? He tried to put it from his mind as he opened the door and assisted Sansa.

She did not help ease his discomfort. As soon as she was upright, she pressed herself fully against him, hugging him so the length of their bodies touched. He stood stiffly, not sure if he should really reciprocate. It might not be the best idea. He glanced at the windows of the house nervously.

“Thank you for tonight.” She kissed his neck.

He gave in at that, hugging her back tightly and bending to kiss her lips passionately. He did not know when he would next have a chance to do so.

He was very reluctant to let her go, stretching the kiss on for as long as he could. Trying not to rub his sandpapery cheeks too much against her. Eventually she took a step back.

“Good night, Stannis.” Her voice was a little breathless from their kiss. Hearing her say his name like that made him even more reluctant to part from her.

“Good night.” He disliked having to say good night, and scowled at his feet.

The front door of the house opened and closed.

Stannis let his shoulders slump a little and wondered how long it would take for his erection to go away. 

Well, he had a long drive ahead of him, with nothing to do except find out. _Joy_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The film they go to is the _Shanghai Express_ with Marlene Dietrich


	24. Dragonstone Tower

_Sizzling Summer Kisses_

_Spotted! Exchanging heated kisses, Sansa Stark and Stannis Baratheon, outside his apartment on the hottest day of the year. And by the looks of things, they were just getting started…_

_This blogger is officially convinced -- there is nothing ‘arranged’ about this summer romance!_

Sansa snorted as her eyes swept over the newest piece of ‘news’ about her and Stannis. It seemed that people were still interested enough to want to see pictures of her and Stannis, but now that people were used to the idea of them being together, the gossip was less drama, more general voyeurism.

She looked at the photographs on the screen of her phone critically. Stannis had his hands on her hips, and there wasn’t room for so much as a needle to pass between them. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, and they both had their eyes closed. Their heads were tilted to opposite sides, and it was quite like they were attempting to devour each other.

She really hoped her dad didn’t keep up with the gossip blogs.

Seeing the photos made her miss Stannis even more than she had been for the past three days. She desperately wanted to kiss him like that again. She wanted to do much more than kiss, actually. Sansa had meant what she said to Stannis last Thursday. She wanted to try everything he wanted. She loved him, and she wanted to do anything she could to make him happy. It didn’t hurt that the things he wanted to do tended to make her very happy too. So it all worked out perfectly, really!

She had tried to explain this to Margaery, but her friend had not seemed to get it.

“You can’t tell a guy that you want to let him to anything he wants to you! Have you any idea how perverted most guys are?” Margaery had said, shaking her head in disbelief.

Sansa had just shrugged and insisted Stannis wasn’t like that.

“I’ll grant you that he’s a little more repressed than most, but that just makes it even harder to tell whether he’d just ask for anal like every other guy, or whether he’d go full on chains and whips on you!” Margaery had laughed at the horrified look on Sansa’s face. “I’m not trying to scar you for life here, just warning you not to trust people so fast. Especially men. I mean, they’re mostly freaks. I blame the porn industry.”

Sansa blew out a breath at the memory, feeling herself start to blush all over again at Margaery’s words. Stannis wouldn’t want to try any of what she had mentioned, would he? It didn’t sound like very pleasant stuff. Though she could be wrong. People wouldn’t do it unless they liked it, would they? Still, she didn’t think it would be her cup of tea, and she really doubted it would be something Stannis would like. From the fantasies he had already shared, he seemed quite happy with things that weren’t quite as out there.

She looked out the bus window, looking for a distraction from her unsettling thoughts. The scenery was familiar, and she knew she would be in King’s Landing soon. It was getting late on a Monday afternoon, and traffic was starting to pick up. A lot of people worked in King’s Landing but lived in the surrounding towns. She supposed the people who left work early were already driving from the city. Thankfully, Sansa was going towards the city, so she probably wouldn’t get stuck in any traffic jams.

Feeling suddenly a bit nervous, she checked her purse to see if she still had her precious cargo with her. Sure enough, her old phone and the charger that went with it were still resting right where she had left them. She had found the old device on Thursday night and confirmed that her original topless photos were still on it. She probably didn’t really _need_ to make a special trip to Dragonstone Tower to give Stannis the phone, but she missed him, and it was as good an excuse as any.

Apparently some _very_ important people from overseas had arrived last Friday, and Stannis had to spend his entire weekend in meetings, showing them around King’s Landing, and generally picking up the slack from Robert’s terrible organisational skills. She knew Renly was helping, but it was still a lot of work.

She had been exchanging emails with Stannis, so she knew the V.I.P.s had left today, and that Stannis would be dealing with all the paperwork such a visit generated until it was late, but she hadn’t told him about her intended visit. She wanted to surprise him.

By the time she walked into the lobby of Dragonstone Tower, her heart was beating rapidly in excitement. She was so looking forward to seeing Stannis again! She couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he saw her pop up at his office!

She had worn her white sundress, the same one she had worn when her family had thrown her a graduation party, and left her hair loose and wild around her shoulders. With her biggest sunglasses, and her high-heeled strappy sandals on, she felt quite pretty and glamorous. She hoped Stannis would think so too.

First she had to find out which floor he was on. She marched to the front desk confidently, pushing her sunglasses from her face to rest at the top of her head.

“I’m here to see Mr. Stannis Baratheon, please. Which floor is he on?”

The receptionist, Lollys according to her name tag, looked at her incredulously. Lollys was a young woman, just a few years older than Sansa, and she was starting to smile as if Christmas had come early. “Are you really his girlfriend?” the woman whispered, leaning forward and grinning, “only I’ve seen the pictures, but I couldn’t quite believe you were a real person. I thought you might just be edited into them,” she explained conversationally, “I owe Steve in Marketing a beer now, I guess.”

Sansa didn’t have the heart to glare at the woman. She obviously only saw a very stern side of Stannis for her to believe him incapable of having a real girlfriend.

“Yes, I’m really his girlfriend. I’m here to surprise him, so if you could just give me directions to his office and - ah - _forget_ to call ahead to announce me, I’d be very grateful.” Sansa did her best to sound flawlessly polite, just as her mother had taught her.

“Sure, sure.” Lollys smiled and gave Sansa the directions she needed, and waved at her cheerfully when Sansa turned to head for the lifts.

There weren’t very many people still at work on the floor where Stannis kept his office, but they all stopped what they were doing to stare at her as she walked by. She smiled at anyone who met her eyes, wanting to give a good, friendly impression. As she walked away from them she could hear them start to whisper speculatively to each other.

Lollys had given her good directions and she found the door to Stannis’ office easily. There was a desk in front of it where she imagined his assistant usually sat, but she appeared to be gone for the day. The door was ajar and she could hear his voice on the other side. She quietly pushed it, opening it a bit further so that she could see if he had someone with him, but he turned out to be on the phone, his back to the door. She listened, wanting to gauge how important the call was.

“No, I will not do this again! Do you think I wanted to spend my weekend making up for the fact that you hadn’t planned _anything_ in advance?” Stannis sounded angry. From what he was saying, she was relatively certain he was talking to his older brother.

He probably wouldn’t mind if she distracted him a little, then.

Sansa walked into the room, letting the door click shut behind her. Stannis noticed the sound and swiveled his chair around to face her. His face had been scowling, and he had obviously been ready to glare at the interruption, but now that he saw it was her, his eyes were widening and his mouth opened in shock. He looked to be about to say something to her when he stopped himself, realising he was still on the phone.

“I don’t care if it’s always worked out fine in the past. Things are different now,” Stannis said, obviously attempting to sound as if he had not just been hugely surprised. He put a forefinger to his lips to indicate that she should be quiet, and gestured at the chair in front of his desk, silently offering her a seat.

She could tell that Stannis did not want Robert to realise that she was with him. 

Sansa had not expected the flood of arousal that hit her at the sight of Stannis in his office. He looked completely at home, surrounded by well-made and practical office furniture, dressed impeccably in a simple, expensive-looking suit, his tie not even a _little_ loosened or off-centre even though it was the end of the day. His five o’clock shadow was definitely showing, however, and it looked _very_ good on him. He looked powerful, and despite the annoyance he was radiating due to the call he was taking, quite devastatingly sexy.

A wicked idea sprang to life in her mind.

Instead of sitting down, she made sure that no one would be able to see into the office from the hallway by closing the blinds. There were windows to the outside too, but they were on the fiftieth floor. Only birds would be able to see them from the outside.

Stannis was listening to Robert, watching her, looking a little puzzled.

She walked around to his side of the desk and beamed at him. He obligingly swiveled his chair to face her, curiosity written all over his face. She repeated the gesture he had made at her, putting a forefinger up to her lips.

“I don’t know what you should do. Find someone that will organise these things for you. Hire some kind of organisational officer!” Stannis barked into the phone, but his attention was obviously on her. She met his eyes and dropped her finger from her lips. Then she carefully got on her knees in front of him, looking up at his face the whole time.

His eyes were widening again and she could see lust and panic in his dark blue gaze, shock and excitement.

Feeling impossibly daring, and not really knowing where her boldness was coming from, she reached to undo the fly of his suit trousers. Her heart had started to beat fast and hard as soon as she started to get to her knees, and she was on fire with the sensation of hot blood flowing to her cheeks and rushing all around her. This had to be the craziest thing she had ever even contemplated! She hadn’t even locked the door!

Still, she already felt impossibly turned on at the idea of doing this and judging by how hard he already felt under her hand, he was too.

“No. Can’t you talk to HR?” Stannis bit out, his breathing becoming a little irregular.

Sansa pulled his cock free and stroked it a few times. She was familiar with using her hand, so the movement was practised and easy. She was buying herself time before she attempted something new. She needed to work up a little more courage.

As she stroked him languidly she looked up and saw that Stannis was staring at her, phone clutched to his ear as if he were holding on to a lifeline, an expression of disbelief and raw lust on his face.

“Call them yourself! I can’t be -” Stannis gasped silently.

Sansa had wanted to know what he tasted like, so she had held him at his base, and licked the head of his cock. It had caused the gasp. She looked up at him impishly and he glared at her halfheartedly. His eyes were black with arousal.

“I can’t be responsible for everything that needs to be done around here.” Stannis continued, as if he hadn’t stopped in the middle of a sentence to gasp.

Sansa liked the way he tasted. A little salty, but otherwise pretty much like any other part of his skin. The smell was different, though. There was a strangely heavy scent filling her nose, musky and very male. Not unpleasant, but strange. She had smelled it before, but not as strongly.

She put her lips around the tip of his erection, enveloping the head with her mouth, and licked again. At the same time, she tightened her grip at the base. Then she looked at Stannis again, wondering if she was doing it right.

He was gripping the arm of his chair very tightly with his free hand, and holding the phone in a vice grip. His chest was moving rapidly up and down, but he seemed to be making an effort to keep his breaths silent.

When he saw her looking at him, she felt his cock twitch in her hand, almost escaping from her lips. She knew that meant he was incredibly turned on. She decided to keep doing what she had been doing. It was obviously good for him.

“No, I’m here. I’m listening,” Stannis said quickly, somehow disguising the fact that he was fast becoming breathless.

She tried to get more of him inside her mouth, but it was difficult and she was worried about her teeth hurting him. She experimented with several variations of moving her head, her hand and her tongue, until she heard him let out a sound that was more like a whimper than anything else. He made it when she tried moving her hand all the way from the base to the tip, just as she had done many times before, but keeping her lips on him none the less, and sucking the head into her mouth when her hand was at the base. Hearing that he liked this, she established a rhythm, repeating the motion over and over.

“That’s a terrible idea-aah - Robert.” Stannis was starting to lose the ability to sound unaffected.

He was lifting his hips a little to meet her on the down stroke, obviously unable to help himself. She would have smiled, but her mouth was busy. This was much more difficult than she had imagined it would be! The muscles around her mouth were becoming tired of being stretched open, and it required a lot of concentration to keep from scraping her teeth against his skin. Occasionally Stannis jerked his hips forward at the wrong moment, causing more of him to go into her mouth than she could really handle. She almost gagged once, but managed to move her head back in time to prevent it. On top of everything else, the hard floor wasn’t exactly easy on her knees. She wished she had a pillow to kneel on.

Still, whenever she looked at him she felt like it was completely worth it. He was flushed now, and still gripping anything he could get a hold of tightly. His breaths were starting to come out louder, despite his best efforts, and he was looking at her with such lust that it made her ache for him.

“You could try talking to - to Renly.” Stannis was talking through gritted teeth, and now he was squeezing his eyes shut. Sansa could feel him tensing up all over, and wondered if he was close. It hadn’t been very long yet, but Margaery had said something about him coming as soon as Sansa went to her knees, hadn’t she?

She remembered that he generally liked her to go faster when he was almost there, so she sped up.

“No, I’m fine!” Stannis growled into the phone. 

Sansa felt his hand come to rest on the back of her head, surprisingly gently. He had been holding onto his armrest as if he meant to break it off, but now he was just stroking her softly. She liked it, and it gave her the energy to keep up her new, fast pace.

“All right, don’t forget the meeting tomorro- _oh!_ ” Stannis, obviously having ended the call, threw the phone across the room and groaned loudly.

“You are an evil little minx - _ah!_ ” he panted, and his other hand came to join the first. Gently stroking her hair and keeping it away from her mouth. She really appreciated it, as her hair was very ticklish, got in her way, and was generally annoying.

She looked up at him, trying to shoot him a mischievous look, but as soon as their eyes met, he started to jerk his hips forward uncontrollably, and she had to look back at what she was doing to prevent him from accidentally choking her. She almost moved her lips off him in surprise when something salty, slightly bitter, and very very warm started to fill her mouth, but she realised he was climaxing, and that it would probably be a lot neater if she swallowed it.

“Fuck, fuck, Sansa, _fuck!_ ” He was swearing, trying to keep his voice from becoming too loud.

She kept moving her hand, but much more gently, and she licked at him until she thought nothing more would come out. Then she let him go and sat back on her heels, looking up at him with interest. She felt something wet running over her chin, and wiped at it with her hand just as he opened his eyes to look at her.

“ _Fuck,_ ” he said again, sounding utterly defeated, closing his eyes almost as soon as he had opened them.

She’d never heard him swear so much all at once. It was kind of sexy.

She licked the back of her hand clean, and wished she could have some water to wash the taste from her mouth. It wasn’t _bad_ , really, but it wasn’t the best either.

Stannis looked absolutely boneless in his chair, his eyes still closed, his trousers still open.

“Hi,” she said, trying to get his attention.

He opened his eyes half way, seemingly almost afraid to see her.

“Are you okay?” she asked him, feeling a little amused, but mostly very smug at having had such a huge effect on him. Had he felt this satisfied with himself when he had used his mouth on her?

“In a minute I’m going to be very cross with you,” he told her with another halfhearted glare.

Sansa looked around, unconcerned by his threat. There was a door, other than the door she had come through. She got up and walked over to it, trying the handle carefully in case it lead to an adjoining office. It swung open to reveal a little washroom. She smiled at her discovery and went inside to wash her hands and drink a little water from the tap.

When she got back, Stannis had tucked himself back into his trousers and was looking perfectly respectable.

This time when he gestured at the chair in front of his desk, she sat down in it.

“You have now placed me in the awful position of having to ask you not to do that again,” Stannis began, rubbing circles at his temples with his fingertips.

“You didn’t like it?” she asked him, affecting her most innocent tone. She knew perfectly well that it had been wicked of her to do that to him while he was at the office -- and on the phone! But it had only been _Robert._ Anyway, she had walked past maybe five people on this entire floor, they were practically alone.

“You know exactly how much I liked it,” there was a very heated look in his eyes, “you just can’t do it at my office,” he forbade, still looking at her heatedly.

“What if I only like doing it here?” she asked him, smiling teasingly.

He scowled at her. “If that’s the case, I am going to have to demand to keep the entire floor to myself, so that I will have complete privacy here in the future.” There was a glint in his eyes that told her that he was playing along with her.

She laughed in delight.

“I really missed you,” she told him, changing the subject.

“The managing directors of the overseas branches could have picked a better time to visit,” Stannis said stiffly. For him it was almost as good as saying that he wished he could have spent the entire weekend with her. She smiled at him.

He looked at her for a little while, almost as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. She enjoyed the attention and decided to wait for him to say something else. She didn’t want to cut the moment short. She adored the way he looked at her. He might not have the best way with words when it came to expressing his emotions, but whenever he looked at her, she felt how much he cared for her. How much he wanted her. How much he _loved_ her. She hoped he could see the same things when she looked at him.

All too soon, he spoke.

“Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

Sansa looked at him blankly for a moment, but then she remembered the phone in her bag. She dug it out and presented it to Stannis. “I wanted to give this to you. I thought you might need to keep it safe. It’s the phone with all the pictures I sent to Joffrey,” she explained. She handed him the charger as well.

Stannis got up and walked over to one of the walls. Behind a tasteful painting of maritime scenery there was a hidden safe. Sansa loved it, it was just like in the movies! He placed the phone and the charger inside, closed the safe and hid it again with the painting.

Sansa was about to tell Stannis how much she liked the safe and how she thought it was just like in a film when the phone Stannis had thrown earlier suddenly started ringing. Stannis looked a little embarrassed at the reminder that he had actually thrown the device, so he quickly bent to pick it up.

“Stannis speaking,” he answered the phone, giving Sansa an apologetic look. She smiled, trying to communicate that she didn’t mind. He was at work and she didn’t expect him to stop taking calls on her account.

“What!?” Stannis looked appalled. He gave Sansa a panicked glance, and went to peer through the blinds that Sansa had drawn, spying on the hallway.

“Thank you for warning me, I’ll let you know what happens.” Stannis ended the call, plonking the phone down on his desk this time around.

“That was Davos, apparently Melisandre is on her way to my office. Perhaps you should go.” Stannis ran a hand through his hair, looking at Sansa worriedly.

Sansa got to her feet, but before she had a chance to say anything, there was a knock at the door. Making a split second decision, Sansa grabbed her bag and walked to the washroom, closing the door most of the way behind her. It was dark inside the little room without the light on, so it ought to be safe for her to leave the door open a crack so that she could glimpse the proceedings and listen in. Stannis seemed torn about her decision to hide, relief and worry on his face. However, he did not have time to muse on it for long. He sat down behind his desk, picked up a file, schooled his face into a blank expression, and bid Melisandre enter.

Sansa only caught the barest glimpse of the woman, but what she saw made her feel intimidated and a little jealous. The woman was wearing a very tight, very flattering red skirt suit, with a lot of cleavage on display. Her hair was very long and blood red, straight and shining as if she were arriving straight from the set of a shampoo commercial. She was gorgeous in a grown up way, a full-fledged seductress.

“Good afternoon Stannis,” Melisandre purred.

“Melisandre.” Stannis did not sound moved by the red woman’s tempting tone. He sounded absolutely formal as he acknowledged her presence.

“I thought I might find you working late,” Melisandre said, a slightly mocking lilt to her tone. Sansa caught a glimpse of her as she leant forward, exposing even more cleavage in Stannis’ general direction. Sansa clenched her fists in annoyance, wishing she could march out there and drape herself around Stannis to make sure the woman knew he was taken.

“You know how it is. Paperwork. How may I help you, Melisandre?” Stannis spoke in clipped, short sentences. He didn’t quite cross the line to sounding rude, but he sounded abrupt and impatient.

Sansa saw Melisandre reach to place her own hand on top of one of Stannis’ hands, and had to stifle the urge to make a small disgusted sound.

“You know I’m always looking out for new opportunities for you. For us. The company.” She sounded persuasive, tempting. Her voice was low and smooth as velvet.

Sansa realised that Melisandre might be about to reveal the scheme that would supposedly force Stannis to sell. She slowly reached into her bag to find her phone, and as silently as she could, with the device hidden inside her bag to make sure the light from the screen did not give her away, she started an audio recording, hoping that Stannis and Melisandre’s voices would be loud enough.

Stannis pulled his hand away, ostensibly to fiddle with some files on his desk. “Get to the point,” he ordered tersely.

Melisandre sat back in her chair, looking irritated and crossing her arms underneath her generous bosom. It made her cleavage even more pronounced. Sansa hoped Stannis wasn’t looking. She couldn’t tell since she mostly saw his back.

“I have been approached by a man who wishes to buy some of our properties in Pyke. Most of them, in fact. He is offering a very generous price. It would be an _extremely_ lucrative sale. The board would approve, and it would make this quarter the best we’ve had in five years.” Melisandre was speaking in a more businesslike tone now, dispensing with the sultry act.

“You know I have no intention of selling the Pyke properties,” Stannis said dismissively.

“Come now, you’ve done all you planned to do with them. The fishing industry is nearly back to where it was twenty years ago. Most of the fish species have bounced back from the overfishing and everything is flourishing perfectly. It’s time to let go.” Melisandre was obviously doing her best to sound convincing. Sansa probably would have felt a little convinced just from the woman’s confident tone, if she hadn’t known all the particulars of the matter.

“Who is the buyer?” Stannis asked curtly.

“Balon Greyjoy, who else?” Melisandre told him matter-of-factly.

“Absolutely not. I will not sell to that man. He will go right back to underpaying his workers, enforcing inhumane working hours and conditions, and probably overfishing, too.” Stannis sounded coldly determined.

Melisandre got up and went around the desk to invade Stannis’ personal space. She perched herself on the desk quite close to Stannis and leaned in until her breasts were directly in front of his eyes, reaching downward with her hand. Sansa couldn’t see, but she was guessing that Melisandre was touching something she had absolutely no right to touch. She was almost sure of it, as Stannis had tensed up like an angry cat.

“Stannis, there must be something I can do to convince you,” Melisandre purred, sounding as seductive as anything Sansa had ever heard in all her years of watching films.

Sansa was furious. Without thinking it through, she turned the tap until water ran loudly from the faucet. Then she walked out into the office as if she hadn’t been hiding in the washroom at all. As if it had simply been a coincidence that she had been in there. She pretended to be shocked and angry at the scene she was walking in on.

“Stannis! What’s going on?” she asked, putting all of her acting skills into pretending that she hadn’t just been eavesdropping on their entire conversation.

Stannis looked baffled and irritated by her appearance, widening his eyes as if to ask _’what the hell do you think you’re doing?’_

Melisandre didn’t flinch, or pull her hand back as if burnt, or look shocked or anything! Sansa couldn’t believe how coolly the woman reacted. She just raised an eyebrow at her.

“Well, well. That explains your lack of reaction.” Melisandre took in Sansa’s slightly dishevelled appearance, and then down at Stannis’ lap briefly, directing her words at him. Then she slowly, sedately, moved away from him, going around the desk to sit down in the visitor’s chair. 

Sansa felt intensely relieved that Stannis hadn’t had any kind of physical reaction to Melisandre’s groping. She wondered if he normally would have, but that he had been unable to react because of what they had just been doing, such a short while ago. She hoped that he wouldn’t have reacted to the awful woman’s touch no matter what.

Stannis was looking as if he didn’t quite know what to make of everything that had just happened. He blinked at Sansa, and cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Just a misunderstanding,” he said, glaring at Melisandre.

“Do you want me to go?” Sansa asked Stannis, pointedly ignoring the smirking Melisandre.

“No, that’s all right. I think Melisandre has finished making a fool of herself.” Stannis scowled at the red woman.

Melisandre let out a scornful laugh.

“I didn’t want to do this, Stannis. I appreciate what you did for me, giving me this job. However, my loyalty lies first and foremost with the company. This sale would benefit us hugely! Can’t you see that?” She had completely abandoned the sultry tactics, and was sounding serious.

“If you don’t agree to the sale, I will be forced to help Selyse get sole custody of Shireen. You won’t even get visitation rights by the time I’m through.” Melisandre sounded disturbingly threatening, a shadow crossing her features, making her eyes snap and crackle with some ugly, unnamed emotion.

Sansa felt upset and frightened by the woman’s words. Surely she couldn’t do something like that! She looked at Stannis worriedly, and was surprised to see how unmoved he looked. Didn’t he care? Surely he must! She knew how much he cherished Shireen!

“I’d like to see you try. You have no case against me. I have never neglected my duties towards Shireen.” Stannis looked unimpressed and faintly irritated. Sansa couldn’t believe how calmly he was handling this. She was flushed with anger on his behalf, but his face didn’t betray a hint of upset.

“The court will listen if I prove that you’re a threat to her safety,” Melisandre countered, eyes flashing.

“How on earth would I be considered a threat to Shireen’s safety?” Stannis scoffed.

“I could prove that you’ve been preying on underage girls for a while. That you have topless pictures of your little girlfriend there since she was fifteen. Selyse is prepared to testify that she’s seen you touching Shireen inappropriately. Cersei is prepared to say that she saw you try to look at Myrcella undressing when you were a guest at Robert’s house,” Melisandre cruelly explained, a sneer marring her beautiful features.

Sansa almost forgot how to breathe. Was the woman really threatening to make Stannis out to be some kind of pedophile? To take his daughter away and ruin his life? Over a stupid business deal? The woman was absolutely crazy!

She looked down at Stannis who was still sitting at his desk. He had gone very pale, and was grinding his teeth. The sound was horrible to listen to, and Sansa wished he would stop.

“How dare you make such threats?” he said through gritted teeth, his voice ice cold.

“I only want what’s best for the company,” Melisandre shot Sansa a nasty look, “that includes dropping your little plaything, too. She’s not good for the company’s image.” Melisandre sounded more vicious then ever. 

Sansa bristled at being called a plaything, but managed to hide her anger. She somehow got the feeling that Melisandre felt personally offended that Stannis hadn’t been swayed by her attempts at seduction, and that she was being particularly venomous towards Sansa because of it. Perhaps incensed at the idea that Sansa had been successful where Melisandre hadn’t, but maybe it was all in her imagination. After all, she knew that it was Cersei who had been behind the demand that Stannis end his relationship with her.

“I will not sell to Balon Greyjoy,” Stannis stubbornly bit out, “I will not end my relationship with Sansa.” He sounded resolute, wintry and hard.

“You would honestly rather be dragged through court, lose your daughter, and be painted as the most notorious pedophile in Westeros?” Melisandre raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow in disbelief.

“You have nothing on me,” Stannis growled, “the only physical evidence you have - the pictures of Sansa since she was fifteen - will not work in your favour. Sansa still has the original copies on the phone that she took them on. It will not take a genius to figure out that she only sent them to her boyfriend at the time, Cersei’s son Joffrey.” Stannis said Joffrey’s name as if he were saying something disgusting, like a hideous slur.

Sansa nodded to confirm what Stannis was saying when Melisandre glanced at her, clearly attempting to gauge whether Stannis was telling the truth about Sansa still having the original pictures.

“If you so much as think of using the pictures against me, I will make sure the boy is brought up on charges for distributing child pornography.” Stannis spoke coolly, mercilessly, and was scowling so fiercely that Sansa felt a little intimidated. She was very glad that he wasn’t talking to her.

“And if Cersei so much as thinks of _lying_ and saying that I ever attempted to spy on Myrcella, I will make sure Joffrey is brought up on charges,” he added as an afterthought. 

“As for my ex-wife - it would be her word against mine, and I am certain that Shireen would testify that I have never in my life touched her inappropriately,” Stannis finished, and went back to grinding his teeth and glaring murderously at Melisandre.

Melisandre had obviously not expected Stannis to fight her, and was looking pale and thin-lipped.

“Well. I suppose that settles that,” she said, her voice shaking with anger. She stood up in a quick, smooth motion. “You’ve obviously thought of everything,” she bitterly added, shooting them both vicious looks. She turned on the spot, her hair flying through the air with the force of her movement, and walked to the door.

“Do not return, Melisandre. I am terminating your employment here and revoking your security clearance,” Stannis coldly informed Melisandre’s retreating form.

Melisandre had stopped and tensed her shoulders as soon as Stannis spoke, her hand poised to turn the door’s handle.

“Additionally, I would recommend moving far from Westeros if you expect to find any work as an attorney again,” Stannis added, a clear dismissal in his voice.

Melisandre said nothing. Simply lifted her chin and stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind her with so much force that the glass in the window cracked.

Stannis and Sansa stared at the door in silence for a few tense moments, listening to the click-clack of Melisandre’s heels becoming distant, and then finally inaudible.

Sansa looked at Stannis then, and saw him slump forward, the rigid tension he had been maintaining while Melisandre was in the room draining from him.

“Well, that was completely insane,” Sansa said, breaking the ice. She gave Stannis an incredulous look, shaking her head a little.

“I had suspected they would attempt to frame me with the pictures somehow, but I had not imagined they would stoop so low as to threaten my relationship with Shireen.” Stannis still sounded angry, but mostly exhausted.

Sansa remembered that she was recording, and pulled her phone out of her bag to put a stop to it. Curious, she pressed play, checking the quality of the sound. The voices were a little faint, but they could be understood.

Stannis looked up at her in alarm, but relaxed when he saw what she was doing.

“You recorded everything?” He looked surprised and pleased. “Good thinking. I doubt it will come to it, but it might become useful to prove that this conversation took place.” Stannis nodded at her in approval.

“I’ll send you the file.” Sansa said, prodding her phone until it did her bidding. “Do you think Mr. Greyjoy will just give up?” she asked, once the file was sent.

“Without Melisandre helping him, he stands no chance,” Stannis told her decisively.

Sansa felt relieved. It was good to know that her stupid pictures would not cost Stannis his relationship with Shireen, or ruin years of work, reestablishing a prosperous fishing industry in Pyke. She wished she had never been blinded by her dumb crush on Joffrey, that she had never placed her trust in him. Why hadn’t she been able to see him for what he was from the start?

Feeling a little at loose ends, Sansa sat down in the chair Melisandre had vacated.

“Do you have a lot more work to do?” Sansa asked after a while. Stannis had been staring blankly at his computer screen for the past few minutes, apparently deep in thought.

“Yes.” He was still staring at his screen.

“Oh. Shall I leave?” Sansa worried at her bottom lip and started digging around in her bag for her sunglasses for something to do.

“I will escort you. I doubt I’ll get any more work done today.” Stannis finally looked away from his screen, his eyes coming to rest on her instead, softening noticeably as they did.

Sansa was thrilled. She had thought Stannis would want to work some more and that she would have to take the bus all the way back to Winterfell, which was the last thing she wanted. She wanted to spend the evening with him. She had this idea that they should make pizza together. It was something that was difficult to screw up, and usually delicious. She was curious about what sort of toppings he would like and wondered if he would like any of the strange toppings that she preferred.

Was it insensitive of her to be thinking of pizza toppings such a short time after Stannis had been threatened with pedophilia charges by a psycho with impressive cleavage?

It was not like she wasn’t unsettled by what she had just witnessed - she was very unsettled by it - but she didn’t want it to ruin her evening. Still, maybe she should wait a while before suggesting pizza. Stannis didn’t seem quite ready to think about something mundane like dinner.

When they walked to the lift, there was no one left on the floor to stare at them. Even the few people who had been staring and whispering when Sansa arrived seemed to have gone home for the day.

Stannis was quiet and brooding all the way to the car, and though he opened the car door for her as always, he seemed distant and not really like he was paying any attention to the gesture. She didn’t mind, she just noticed the change.

They drove in silence until Sansa noticed that they were coming up on a big grocery store that was sure to carry everything they would need to make dinner.

“Let’s stop at the store. I want to get ingredients for pizza. After the day you’ve had, you could definitely use some pizza,” Sansa said, hoping she sounded convincing.

Stannis had been miles away, and it took him a while to process her words. He glanced at her in that quick way he did when he was driving and she made sure to fix a hopeful look on her face.

“You want to make pizza?” he asked, sounding a little confused, “from scratch?”

“Yep!” Sansa popped the ‘p’ and smiled.

They were almost at the turn Stannis would have to make to drive into the parking lot, and Sansa pointed it out. “Please? It will be fun! Just turn in here.”

Stannis made a sound that could have meant anything from _‘all right then’_ to _‘what am I getting myself into?’_ and took the turn.

They made quite the pair in the grocery store. Stannis acted like he had never set foot inside one before - which might be true, she thought she remembered him saying something about ordering his groceries sent home - and she was running amok, putting way too many things in their shopping cart. King’s Landing had much bigger stores than Winterfell, and the selection was much wider. Sansa wanted to try all the things she usually couldn’t find at home.

“Have you ever tried these?” Sansa asked Stannis, holding up a strange looking fruit.

He looked around uncomfortably and shrugged. “Once or twice. It’s tolerable. Not too sweet.”

“I’m getting one!” She grinned and put the fruit in their cart.

“I’m not sure it’s meant to go on pizza.” Stannis raised an eyebrow. This had been his constant refrain whenever Sansa insisted on buying something unrelated to pizza.

He was slowly becoming more relaxed, and seemed more present and in the moment every time Sansa spoke to him. By the time they were hauling the groceries into his apartment and putting them away, he was mostly back to himself.

Sansa wanted to make the pizza dough from scratch, so they had to start dinner preparations by searching the kitchen for the mixer. They couldn’t find it anywhere, so Sansa started searching the dining room. Eventually she found it stuffed into the corner of an antique cupboard. It was a very odd place for it, as the rest of the cupboard contained fancy dinnerware and linen.

“I’m guessing you don’t bake much?” Sansa asked looking at Stannis in bemusement.

Sansa did her very best not to get flour everywhere, but managed to get white hand prints on Stannis in some mysterious and inexplicable way. Really, she had no idea how it happened! She was wearing a white dress - and an apron, of course - so he couldn’t really retaliate.

At the store they had discovered a mutual liking for olives as a pizza topping, but Stannis had absolutely vetoed anchovies. They ended up with a pretty classic arrangement of tomato sauce, basil, olives, and mozzarella. Heavy on the olives.

“You don’t know what you’re missing without the anchovies,” Sansa sing-songed as they ate. Stannis remained unconvinced.

When they had finished eating and loading the dishwasher, Stannis widened his eyes slightly, then closed them in irritation and cursed under his breath.

“I forgot to call Davos and tell him how everything went with Melisandre,” he explained, when Sansa looked at him in alarm, concerned that something serious was the matter.

“I thought he had her under surveillance?” Sansa had been wondering why Stannis had promised to give Davos an update, as Davos had been well informed of Melisandre’s every move since she and Stannis had returned from Dorne.

“The security at Dragonstone prevents traditional surveillance while she’s in the building. Davos has been having her discreetly tailed while she’s been at work. Since she was coming to see me, that wasn’t necessary today,” Stannis explained as he looked around for his phone.

Sansa remembered that he had put it on a side table when he had taken his suit jacket off, and went to fetch it for him. Stannis received it from her with a grateful look in his eyes, dialling Davos from memory as soon as he had the phone in his hand.

She glowed at having done what she had wished to do on the day of the dinner party with Davos and Marya. She had found an object that he had been looking for! It might not seem like a big deal, but she really wanted to be a big part of his life. To her, being a part of another person’s life meant knowing where they kept their things, noticing when they didn’t, remembering when they forgot.

Stannis went to his study to talk to Davos, but he left the door open. She could hear him faintly, recounting the conversation with Melisandre as he paced from one end of the room to the other. She could tell that he was pacing by how his voice grew louder and fainter depending on how close to the door he was.

When she could tell that the conversation had become less serious, and more general catching up on work, she decided to distract him again. He shouldn’t be talking about work right now. He should be undressing her. If he wouldn’t do it, she would have to do it herself. In front of him. She smiled and wondered what he would do when she interrupted _another_ phone call. She did not think he would be very cross. They were at his apartment now, after all, and she didn’t intend to go down on him this time. Next time she tried that she wanted to have something much softer than a hardwood floor under her knees. She was already getting little bruises!

She prepared by untying and unzipping the dress, knowing that if she didn’t hold it up it would drop to the floor. She wasn’t wearing her sexiest underwear, just a pretty plain beige set, but at least it was one of the padded bras that Margaery had made her get.

Taking a deep breath, surreptitiously holding the dress up, she sidled into Stannis’ study. He had his back to the door just as she entered but turned to face her just as she struck a - hopefully - tempting pose. She winked at him, and let go of her dress. It immediately pooled at her feet, leaving her in just her beige underwear.

Stannis stared at her, first in disbelief, then in a mixture of lust and exasperated amusement. He walked towards her and was about to reach for her when he remembered that he was on the phone.

“I have to go, Davos. Sansa requires my attention,” Stannis said, ending the call and putting his phone down on the desk.

“Am I going to have to stop using the phone when you’re in my vicinity?” he asked in his low, husky voice -- the voice she adored more than anything.

“Maybe,” she drawled coyly, “but I waited until you were finished talking about the important bits,” she added piously.

“Kind of you.” Stannis raised an eyebrow, his eyes dark but amused. “Now, what can I help you with?” He closed the distance between them and started to touch her. Just light touches in innocent places, but the look in his eyes made them erotic, and Sansa shivered under his fingertips.

“I lost my dress,” Sansa explained, widening her eyes theatrically.

“Yes?” Stannis prompted, lustful and entertained, stroking her hair and her face now.

“I need help losing the rest,” she decided, turning around so he could reach the clasp of her bra more easily. She cast him a playful look over her shoulder.

Sansa found it so easy to let her flirtatious, sexual side out around Stannis. It felt safe and fun and enormously satisfying when he unravelled because of her antics. She found herself feeling absolutely free to do whatever she thought of to make that dark, desirous look appear in his eyes. It was making her less nervous each time she tried it, because Stannis always reacted so well. Even when he had been a little cross with her today, he had still let her do whatever she wanted and obviously enjoyed it immensely.

Stannis released the clasp carefully, and placed one hand on each of her shoulders to gently push the straps down her arms. His touch was so light that it almost tickled, and when the bra fell to the floor, joining her dress, he stroked her upper arms a few more times, before reaching to cup her breasts possessively, kissing her neck hungrily as he did. She stiffened up for a second because he took her by surprise, but then she melted against him with a happy sigh. “Mm, that feels _amazing_.”

He didn’t say anything in response, but walked her over to stand in front of his desk, between the chair and the table. She was still facing away from him, the desk digging into the front of her thighs, his hands kneading her breasts, his mouth trailing hot, wet kisses up and down her neck.

She wondered what he intended to do and felt incredibly turned on because she had no idea.

Suddenly he turned her around and got to his knees, pulling her underwear all the way down. He was back on his feet before she had really registered that he had stripped her, and was putting his hands around her waist, his grip very firm. He lifted her up to sit on his desk. Her underwear got left behind on the floor.

“Stannis! I’m naked! Do you really want me to sit on your desk? Shouldn’t we move to the bedroom?” Sansa was starting to feel a little overwhelmed.

“I think not.” Stannis sounded very controlled, but Sansa could sense his excitement. He was clearly turned on by the idea of _doing things_ in here, rather than the bedroom. She could hardly object, having started their trend of venturing outside the bedroom by what she had done at Dragonstone Tower. She didn’t really have a reason to object either. She had only thought that he might not want nudity on his nice desk, but apparently it was exactly what he wanted.

Stannis was standing in front of her, his hands still on her waist. He kissed her, a short kiss that promised good things to come. She trusted him.

He sat down in his chair and spread her thighs in one smooth movement. He pulled her forward until she felt like she might fall off the desk, and she felt incredibly exposed with her thighs spread so wide, him sitting between them and _looking._ She felt her face warm in response and a rush of a different type of heat pooling exactly where he was looking.

Just as she was about to ask him what he was doing, he shifted his chair back a little, and leaned in, burying his face between her thighs, his hot, wet tongue seeking out her most sensitive places and ruthlessly working on them until she was crying out uncontrollably.

The worst part was that she was balanced so precariously, that she was obliged to hold on to the desk, and keep her thighs spread just so, otherwise she might fall. It was no easy task when he was tormenting her with white-hot bliss.

When she was trembling with the strain of keeping herself balanced and open to him, he finally released her, and stood up. She hadn’t been able to really climax because she had been so focused on not falling on the floor, but she was _soaking wet_ and completely ready for whatever it was that he was going to do.

He made her sit properly on the desk, moving her back so that she was no longer in danger of falling off.

“I’ll be right back,” he promised and walked briskly from the study. He was back before she had a chance to wonder where he went, carrying a few condoms. He opened a desk drawer and threw most of them inside, leaving only one in his hand.

He kissed her, and he tasted like he had just had a drink of water. There was also a faint taste of something tangy and strange that she supposed was herself, but it was not very noticeable or unpleasant.

Stepping back to give himself room, his hands went to his belt. Sansa watched in eager anticipation as he quickly unbuckled the polished leather, and undid his fly. He shoved his underwear down impatiently, enough to allow his cock free. He wrestled a condom on, even more quickly than last time, and was back with her, kissing her, before she knew it.

He was leaning forward and forcing her to lie back on the desk. Thankfully, there hadn’t been much on it. But the few papers and the pencil holder with its contents were unceremoniously dumped to the floor. It was a large, sturdy piece of furniture, and Sansa was not worried about breaking it. She was glad for the size of the table, because it meant that now that she was lying back, Stannis standing between her legs and leaning over her body with his, her head was not hanging off the other end.

Her heart was beating wildly in excitement, and she felt hyper aware of how Stannis was pressed against her, his latex-covered erection slippery and hard. She tried to rub herself against it for some relief, but he moved away slightly and she moaned in frustration. It turned into a moan of pleasure when he grabbed her legs, placing her calves on his shoulders, and started guiding himself inside, sinking in slowly, but not quite as slowly as last time. Her body was becoming used to this invasion, welcoming it more and more -- coming to associate it with pleasure.

Having her legs up over his shoulders like this was new and she was not sure if she liked it or not. She became sure when he started to move. It was delicious, decadent, and _sublime._ The angle was just right for him to stimulate her most sensitive spots every time he buried himself to the hilt, and she let out little gasps of pleasure whenever he did.

She wanted to open her eyes an look at him, to see if he was enjoying this as much as she, but she was starting to feel a mixture of two different types of pleasure, both building, both _almost there._ So she kept her eyes closed, concentrating on the build, letting herself feel it, letting it get her all the way to release. The moment it happened she felt herself start to clench uncontrollably around him, and she felt it all the way up to her abdominal muscles, almost as if they were contracting involuntarily like they sometimes did after a really good exercise. The pleasure of it was more than she had ever felt before, reaching deeper, and sending jolts to every cell in her body capable of feeling remotely good.

Her toes genuinely curled. Her ears were buzzing. Her face was burning up with tingling heat, especially her cheeks.

As she came back to herself, she realised she had been making a lot of noise. She knew because her throat felt a little tender and raw.

She opened her eyes timidly, curious to see what Stannis looked like at the moment.

He looked enraptured. He was gazing at her like she was the most miraculous thing he had ever laid eyes on, and the most desirable, too. He was still inside of her, and still rock-hard. _How had he not climaxed?_ she wondered.

“Wow.” She didn’t know what else to say. She wasn’t sure if she could take much more. Everything was very tingly and _very_ sensitive.

“I’m very close,” he told her in a slightly strangled voice. He pulled out of her, and she stared at him in bewilderment.

“Would you feel terribly averse to… turning around?” he asked, breathing heavily. He looked almost apologetic about asking, but terribly aroused.

A fresh pulse of heat made her tingling, sensitive parts start to faintly throb with want. She had no idea the thought of him taking her from behind would turn her on so much, but she simply hastened to flip herself over, even though her legs were completely uncooperative.

He pushed inside of her again, groaning as he did.

“Oh, _fuck!_ Fucking hells, _Sansa!_ ”

She felt completely boneless and stupid with pleasure, loving the way he sounded, loving the way he felt, clenching around his cock reflexively and moaning every time he sank it in, every time he pulled it out. His grip on her hips was so tight that it almost hurt, but all she could focus on was the slow push and pull of his cock. It was maddening to have him go so slowly. She wanted more. Maybe it was greedy of her since she obviously just had the most mind-blowing orgasm of her life, but she wanted _more._

“Please, Stannis! Harder, more, _please!_ Faster!” The words came unbidden, almost sobs.

He obliged her and she knew that he was _fucking_ her now, and she was so embarrassed and relieved that he could not see her face, because she loved it absolutely. It just felt so _naughty_ and good and amazing.

Physically, it was different again from everything else she had tried. In this position he was only managing to touch the place inside of her that built her slower, deeper orgasms, but it was _really_ touching it, not just brushing lightly against it. The harder and faster he went, the better it felt.

He was pulling almost all the way out and forcefully thrusting back in now, and she could hear him grunt slightly with each effort. He breathing was laboured, his body tense.

Finally it was if something snapped, and he started thrusting in a way that Sansa thought might actually better be described as _pounding_ , his pace faster than what she had imagined possible. It startled her, and pushed her over the edge without warning. She let out a wordless, high pitched cry - almost a scream - just as he called out, his voice raw and rough.

He collapsed on top of her for a moment, pressing her breasts uncomfortably against the hard surface of the desk, but before she had cause to complain he got up, sitting down in his chair instead. She heard a noise that she guessed had something to do with the disposal of the condom, but she could not turn her head to look. She could not move an inch. Not if she tried. Not even if the building caught fire.

She was completely worn out.

Still, it was getting very uncomfortable to lie across the desk the way she was. She had barely noticed it a few minutes ago, but now it felt very hard and unyielding against her skin. She made a small sound of discomfort without really meaning to, and Stannis was on his feet right away. Somehow he managed to manoeuvre her into his arms and he carry her to his bedroom, setting her gently down on the bed.

She was starting to feel very tender between her legs, not quite as sore as after her first time, but she could definitely feel the effect of what Stannis had been doing. It was a strange mix of discomfort and pleasure, a pulsing, unfamiliar ache, and she had a notion that she would be feeling it regardless of how experienced she might have been.

Was this what people were referring to when they joked about girls not being able to walk for days? She thought it might be.

“Are you all right?” Stannis asked her, and she became aware of how he was lying next to her, petting her gently. He sounded apologetic, and a little wary of her answer.

“Mmm.” She tried to sound affirmative. She wasn’t quite up to words yet.

“I didn’t hurt you?” He clearly wanted to take her word for it and be relieved, but he was also a little disbelieving and concerned.

“No.” She understood how important it was for him to know, to be sure, so she managed this one short decisive word. It still kind of came out as a half-muffled moan, though.

Her answer seemed to do the trick. She could feel him unclench and hear his breathing become more relaxed. They stayed still for what felt like a long time, two boneless heaps, exhausted and spent. Sansa thought Stannis might have drifted off to sleep, but she stubbornly kept herself awake, not wanting to accidentally spend the night again.

Eventually it was nature’s call and her parched throat which pulled her from bed. She had rested for long enough so her legs did not wobble too badly on her way to the en suite.

Sansa returned to bed feeling refreshed. She didn’t lie down, choosing to sit next to Stannis instead. He was completely knocked out, face completely relaxed and free of the frown lines that she was so used to seeing. She stroked his forehead and his cheeks and was pleased when he sleepily leaned into her touch. It made her smile.

Looking over his sleeping form, she observed that he was still nearly fully dressed. He hadn’t even unbuttoned his shirt!

Next time they did this she would ask to be in bed, and for _both_ of them to be naked, and for them to take their time about it. She had liked what they had just done - _had she really had two earth-shattering orgasms?_ \- but she thought it might be more emotionally fulfilling to be comfortable, and warm, and not in such a rush.

“Stannis?” She whispered when she thought he had been sleeping for quite long enough.

“Mm?” He responded surprisingly quickly. He had looked completely dead to the world a second ago, but now he was already blinking his eyes open.

“You fell asleep.” She informed him, not really trying to disguise her amusement.

He sat up, shoulders tense, and looked at his watch. Seeing that it wasn’t all that late seemed to relax him. Then he looked at her, unsure and a little awkward. “I didn’t really plan on… I didn’t plan any of that,” he said apologetically.

“I know, it was all very - um - spur of the moment.” She smiled at him, noticing how his eyes kept straying to look at her naked form. “I liked it.”

“I’m afraid I got a little carried away,” he gave her a chagrined look, “you’re sure I didn’t hurt you?”

“Certain,” she nodded. “I mean, I can definitely still feel what we did, but I think in a good way? It’s not really _sore_ \-- just sensitive. Tender.” Sansa wasn’t really sure she should tell him all this, but keeping it from him didn’t really seem right either.

He looked like he was about to apologise so she repeated what she had already told him. “I really liked it.” She looked him straight in the eyes and willed him to stop apologising. “I’m serious! Don’t worry about it.” She kissed him to make sure the message got through. He still looked a little concerned despite her reassurances.

“How about you, did you like it?” she asked, both out of curiosity and to distract him from his concern. She was almost sure that he had _loved_ it, but she wanted to hear him say it.

Two spots of colour appeared high on his cheeks. “Yes,” he admitted. He looked like he wanted to say more, but was unsure of how to put what he wanted to say into words.

She tilted her head to the side. “Have you thought about doing something like that before?” She wondered if he’d ever sat at his desk and fantasised about her. It made her heart race to imagine him doing it, maybe when he was working late and tired of reading boring reports. How he would stretch and look indecisive for a moment before leaning back in his chair, letting his mind wander…

Stannis nodded at her, reddening a little more. She thought it was rather endearing how embarrassed he seemed to be about this. Did he think she expected him to only ever want to make love on a bed of roses, with candles and soft music? She definitely wanted to try the more romantic setting at some point, but she was not at all averse to doing racy, wicked things sometimes. Especially if it always generated such powerful orgasms!

“Well, then I suppose I was right,” Sansa said thoughtfully, “I _do_ like letting you do anything you want.”

Stannis looked confused for a moment, but then he obviously remembered their conversation from Thursday afternoon, when she told him she wanted to try everything and anything he wanted, and he gave her a hungry, dark look. It made her shudder, a little thrill running down her spine.

“What I want is to never let you leave this bed,” he growled in her ear and trapped her in his arms, kissing her and holding her tightly, his weight catching her off guard and causing her to fall backwards. He followed and they ended up lying down, wrapped around each other.

“You want to make me your love slave?” She giggled when he moved to kiss a path down her neck, his stubble tickling her.

“Don’t give me ideas,” he groaned, his breath hot against her collar bone.

“I don’t think I’d mind. I think you’d be very nice to me,” she said speculatively, restraining herself from giggling even more.

“ _Sansa!_ ” he choked out, his hands tightening around her a little convulsively.

Sansa’s eyebrows shot up. Was her joking around hitting a little close to the mark? Did he really fantasise about stuff like that? 

She had read a romance novel once which had dealt with a man who had been forced to settle a debt by accepting a slave girl as payment instead of money. He had been against slavery on principle, and had meant to set her free, but when he saw her he fell hopelessly in love with her, and couldn’t bring himself to set her free until he had won her affection. The sex scenes had been incredibly hot…

“I don’t really want to ever leave this bed either. Except maybe to go visit you at work.” She decided to let the conversation continue in another direction, but made a note of his reaction to the idea of her as his love slave. It had some definite potential.

“I’m not sure I would survive another visit from you to Dragonstone,” he told her sardonically.

She laughed in delight.


	25. Misunderstandings

The rest of the summer went by in a blink of an eye. Sansa got increasingly nervous about starting school, and spent more and more time getting familiar with her text books.

She also spent a lot more time than her father probably would have wanted visiting Stannis. It became a routine for her to spend at least two or three days a week in King’s Landing, studying at the library or hanging out with Margaery during the day while Stannis was at work, and meeting him after.

They usually met in the park where Stannis had first asked her out, because if she showed up at Dragonstone people would stare and make a fuss, and if she waited near his apartment building she inevitably got photographed. They had started being very careful about what they did outside his apartment building as there always seemed to be photographers around there.

The interest in their relationship did not seem to be dying down at all, and one day, after a blog published photographs of them kissing in Stannis’ car, his hand visibly on her chest, Stannis had actually called Cersei in a fit of rage.

Sansa had tried to stop him, but there had been no way to convince him that talking to Cersei was a bad idea.

“Call your photographers off! I am not ending my relationship with Sansa just because imbeciles publish rubbish about us on the Internet. You may as well pack it in!” Stannis shouted at his phone.

Sansa had almost been amused at how he had blanched when Cersei answered him. Apparently she had only ever been responsible for the photos taken in Dorne. The rest of the pictures were just run-of-the-mill paparazzi snaps.

He had been too proud to apologise, and had simply ended the call without saying goodbye.

Sansa suspected the interest would die down once school started and all of society went back to normal. More newsworthy things would pop up, and with Stannis and Sansa being a relatively drama-free couple, people were sure to get bored with them.

Shireen returned from France after spending four weeks with her mother.

“She barely ever had time to do anything _I_ wanted to do.” Shireen complained over dinner one night. “She always just wanted me to dress up prettily, and meet a bunch of boring French boys.” Shireen rolled her eyes. “Their English was atrocious, and none of them were very interested in books or knew anything about sailing.”

Sansa was happy for Stannis as he was obviously thrilled to have his daughter back. (She could tell he was thrilled because he did not scowl as much.) However, it did dramatically decrease the amount of _alone time_ they were able to have. Sansa couldn’t stay until very late in the evenings, so Shireen was nearly always at home and always awake when Sansa was able to be at the apartment.

After two weeks of forced abstinence and frustrating kisses that couldn’t lead anywhere, Stannis had asked Shireen if she didn’t want to have dinner with Davos, Marya and the boys. Perhaps go to the cinema after?

Shireen had given her father a shrewd look and agreed to the plan with a knowing grin. After that, she quite conveniently renewed her childhood friendship with Devan, and ended up spending a few evenings a week at Davos and Marya’s house. The fact that they tended to coincide with the evenings that Sansa was at Stannis’ apartment was of course a _complete_ coincidence.

Stannis and Sansa didn’t always use their time together to _’go at it like a pair of rabbits’_ as Margaery would say. Stannis was trying to get Sansa into running, and she was attempting to teach him yoga. (He was really fit, but his flexibility was terrible!) In the evenings they quite often just curled up on the sofa and watched films. Sometimes they attempted to cook their own dinner. Sansa was slightly better at it than Stannis, but she did not have a lot of experience. She was quite good at baking, of course, but when she tried to make a recipe of lemon cake with dramatically less sugar, the whole endeavour went a bit… sour. Not even Stannis’ considerable affection for her could induce him to pretend the result was edible.

When they did end up in bed together, it was still _amazing_. Sansa had got her wish to try a more traditional version of love-making, although she was beginning to think she should have phrased her request for more romance better. Stannis had not expressed a desire for anything like what had happened in his study for weeks. She might need to start interrupting his phone calls again...

Margaery was keeping busy, already planning her next ‘big event’. A society party for the younger generation of rich, important families, a back-to-school mixer. Sansa was actually starting to look forward to it. Margaery had decided that it should be a costume party with a theme. She was still trying to decide on a theme the last time Sansa spoke to her, but had narrowed it down to Sci-Fi or the 60s.

Jon and Robb were preparing to move back to their winter accommodations, and Sansa tried to spend what time she was not allotting for preparations for school, Margaery or Stannis, talking to her family. Especially Jon.

It was late in August, and Sansa would be starting University in just over a week. She had already packed most of the things she could reasonably pack in preparation for her move, and was counting the days until she could say goodbye to the King’s Landing bus service forever. Her parents had promised that she could have a car when school started, to make it easier for her to come home to visit and get around the city. She had not been able to convince them to let her have a car any sooner - her father probably didn’t want to encourage her to spend even _more_ time with Stannis than she already did - and she would have had to save her spending money for months and months to be able to afford a car out of her own pocket. 

Stannis was on a business trip and Sansa had been staying at home for the past two days, not really feeling up to the trip to King’s Landing without the promise of seeing Stannis at the end of the day.

As she often did while staying at home these days, she sought Jon out, and sat down next to him. 

“Hello beautiful, what are you up to today?” Jon looked at her with kind eyes and a mildly curious expression.

“I don’t know. Margaery wants me to discuss themes for her party. I’m kind of avoiding it,” Sansa told him honestly. It wasn’t that she didn’t like talking about Margaery’s party, but it was _all_ Margaery had been able to talk about for _weeks._ She wished her friend would meet a guy or something. Just for a change of subject.

“Ah, I see. The dreaded party,” Jon said with a smile, clearly amused.

“I wish she weren’t so happy being single, otherwise I’d set her up with someone and then we could talk about something different for a change,” Sansa mused out loud.

“Who would you set her up with? Does Stannis have a friend?” Jon pretended to ask seriously, but she could tell that he was teasing her. Robb and Jon used every opportunity to tease her about Stannis. When the picture that had infuriated Stannis enough to call Cersei had first started circulating, the pair of them had been _intolerable._ It was the only picture that showed them doing anything more risque than kiss. Even if Stannis’ hand hadn’t been under her shirt, it was still apparent that he’d been fondling her. Sansa still felt a little embarrassed at the thought of people all over Westeros seeing that. Stannis was already talking about getting tinted car windows.

“Maybe I’d set her up with you!” Sansa huffed, pretending that her feathers were ruffled more than they really were and trying to distract herself from her thoughts of embarrassing photographs. 

The smile on Jon’s face became a little forced. “You know I’m not - you know I’m not looking,” Jon said awkwardly. Sansa immediately felt bad for speaking so carelessly.

“I know.” Sansa gave Jon a sympathetic look. “Are you ever going to tell me what happened?” she asked after a little while. She was desperately curious to know what had happened to make Jon retreat even further from the idea of dating. He had never really been as interested in chasing girls as Robb and Theon, but she could remember overhearing all three of them talking about some girl or other in appreciation, so she was relatively sure Jon liked girls. Around the time that she and Joffrey had been dating, Jon had stopped doing very much of even that. He hardly ever commented on a girl’s appearance, or showed any interest in an actress or a singer. Sansa was sure his heart had been broken, but it had been _years_ now. He really should get over it.

Jon was looking at his hands, a strange, sad expression on his face.

“Do you really want to know?” he asked, his voice so quiet that it was barely above a whisper.

“Yes, of course,” Sansa told him gently. Would he really tell her what had been plaguing him? The reason he had been so understanding of her heartbreak after Joffrey?

“Her name was Ygritte. I met her at school,” Jon began hesitantly, “she had red hair like you.” He smiled weakly. “Always liked red hair.” He paused for a while, apparently thinking of what to say.

“Some idiot was trying to hassle her one day, you know how guys can get sometimes - won’t take no for an answer?” Jon looked at her, searching her eyes to see if she understood his meaning. She nodded at him. She understood that Ygritte had probably been fighting off an unwanted sexual advance. “Well, she didn’t need my help to get rid of him. Kneed him, you know?” Jon grimaced. Even when deserved, men just couldn’t seem to help grimacing at the idea of someone getting kneed.

“Good for her,” Sansa said approvingly, smiling and raising an eyebrow at Jon, “what happened then?”

“Guy came back with his friends. I knew she could take care of herself, but I thought she might appreciate a little help when it was four against one,” Jon explained, looking almost pleasantly nostalgic at the memory, but there was still sadness in his eyes.

“We managed to send them packing and when they were gone, she punched me!” Jon smiled at that. “Told me off for butting in.” He shook his head, as if he still couldn’t believe she had done that. “Then she asked me out.”

Sansa giggled. She could imagine Arya using a similar method to get dates if she ever developed an interest in doing so.

“She sort of adopted me after that. Before I knew it, I was hers, and she was mine - sort of - and it was great.” Jon’s eyes were just getting sadder, even though there was a smile playing on his lips.

Sansa wanted to ask him what happened to Ygritte, but she sensed that she shouldn’t push him.

After a long heavy silence, Jon took a deep breath and started to talk again. “Ygritte grew up riding horses nearly every day. Her family has a farm.” He looked at Sansa with an anguished expression. “She was teaching me to ride.” He looked down at his hands again.

“We were riding a couple of mares off-road one day and I got cocky. Challenged her to a race.” Jon shrugged a little helplessly. “Ygritte was always so competitive,” he explained.

 _Was?_ Uh oh.

“I was winning, so she tried to jump a fence to get ahead of me. The mare she was riding didn’t want to jump, so she threw Ygritte off.” Jon sounded very emotional all of a sudden.

“She broke her neck,” he choked out.

Sansa put her arms around Jon, and he did not resist when she pulled his head to the crook of her neck, offering him comfort just like her mother always did for her when she was upset. He shook a little, but she did not think he was allowing himself to cry. “I still miss her so much,” he confessed brokenly, his voice slightly muffled against her neck.

After a while he stopped shaking and Sansa released him from her embrace. He gave her a tremulous look.

“It’s my fault that she died.” There was something so haunted about the way he said those words that made Sansa’s heart break for him.

“Don’t be stupid,” Sansa scolded gently, “it wasn’t anyone’s fault. It was an _accident._ ”

“That’s what Dad said, too,” Jon sighed, “though he didn’t call me stupid.” He poked Sansa in the ribs in retaliation for her name-calling.

“Well, he should have!” Sansa exclaimed, swatting his poking fingers away.

“Yeah. Maybe.” Jon retracted his hands and went back to his brooding.

Sansa was quiet, thinking about the story Jon had told her. Ygritte sounded like a real firecracker. Red hair like hers, and a personality like Arya’s. One might think Jon liked his sisters a little too much! But then Sansa couldn’t say much. Stannis was often disturbingly like her dad.

“Ygritte probably wouldn’t want you to be alone for the rest of your life, Jon,” she eventually said, breaking the silence.

“I know. I’ll.. I’ll get over it eventually.” Jon gave her a weak smile, but his eyes still looked so sad.

“Let me know when you do. I’ll ask Margaery to take pity on you,” Sansa told him teasingly, attempting to lighten the dark mood, “she’ll turn you on to brunettes in no time.”

Jon blushed slightly, but looked grateful for the change of subject.

They argued about the merits of different hair colours for a little while, their forced cheerfulness eventually becoming less forced, until they were genuinely feeling just as much at ease as they had at the start of their conversation.

Jon had just started to explain how blonds do not actually have more fun when Sansa’s phone alerted her to a new message. She squealed in delight, expecting it to be from Stannis. Jon teased her about it, so she rolled her eyes at him and decided to go to her room to read the message.

Once she was in her room she took a proper look at the screen and noticed first in disappointment, then with curiosity, that the message wasn’t from Stannis at all -- it was from Sandor!

_Fair warning - bastard arse is going to gatecrash Margaery’s party next week. Seems to think he’s going to give you a piece of his mind. Fucking moron._

Sansa’s stomach tied itself into knots. Her first instinct was to call Margaery and tell her that she wouldn’t be coming to her party after all. She really did not want to see Joffrey. Especially if he was going to try to say something awful to her.

The frightened little girl in her retreated after a few minutes of contemplation. She was no longer scared of Joffrey. He couldn’t hurt her and he couldn’t control her. She was over him! Let him make an idiot of himself by trying to intimidate her at Margaery’s party. Sansa would go, she would look damn amazing, and she would _not_ be bullied.

Feeling stronger just for having made the decision, she decided to answer Sandor’s text.

_Thanks for letting me know. You’re a good friend. I’m not going to let him ruin the night. If I tries to speak to me, I’ll be prepared to tell him to go screw himself._

Her next action was to call Margaery, but not to tell her that she wouldn’t be coming to the party.

“Margaery?” Sansa made sure her friend was listening as soon as the call connected. “Go with the Sci-Fi theme,” she said decisively, once she was sure she would be heard.

“Did you think of an awesome costume? What’s going on?” Margaery asked, sounding interested and a little confused.

“Joffrey is going to gatecrash the party and I need to look sexier than ever before in my life when I tell him to take a long walk off a short pier,” Sansa explained, determined.

“Hah! Excellent. Sci-Fi theme it is. Braid or buns?” Margaery had obviously guessed which character Sansa had in mind.

“Braid.” Sansa felt her heart rate speed up at her decision. If she went through with the costume it would mean wearing a very small amount of clothing in a very public setting. It wouldn’t be like being at the pool or the beach, either. Everyone around her would not be similarly undressed. However, the costume she had in mind was iconic, and possibly _the_ sexiest Sci-Fi outfit of all time, and she had to make a _statement._

“This is going to be so good. I’ll have to bring popcorn.” Margaery sounded positively gleeful. “I’m going to go let everyone know what the theme is going to be. I really shouldn’t have left it this late to decide!”

“Do that. I have some shopping to do,” Sansa declared. If she was going to make sure her outfit was as authentic and perfect as possible, she needed to start preparing it right away.

They said their goodbyes and Sansa ended the call.

***

The past week had gone by in a whirlwind of activity for Sansa.

She had moved to her student housing, made a precise copy of an iconic Sci-Fi costume, gone to her first ever University class, and started driving her very own car -- an adorable VW Beetle.

Stannis had returned from his business trip, but she hadn’t been able to see him much due to the move and with the chaos of school starting. He had been similarly busy with getting Shireen ready to leave for boarding school, and attempting to spend some quality time with his daughter before she left. 

Tonight was the first night where things wouldn’t be so hectic. Shireen was gone, Sansa had finished her costume, all of her things were unpacked in her new room, and everything was under control regarding her classes. Sansa was really looking forward to celebrating the new-found peace and quiet with Stannis. Finally they would have an evening to themselves, and the whole night, too!

She was thrilled to finally be able to sleep over, but she was also excited for another reason. She had been on the pill for weeks now, and she thought it was about time to try going without condoms. She was getting very curious about what it would be like, but Stannis was always very careful to be safe. He had not slipped up once since the first time. Maybe trying something slightly new, like going without the latex, would bring out the more aggressive lover in him again? She was starting to really miss the way his control used to falter when they were _doing things._

Instead of meeting him in the park, Sansa drove to Stannis’ apartment building after he got home from work. She parked very carefully in the claustrophobic parking garage, feeling very protective of her new car. It took her a few tries, but she managed to get it parked dead centre in one of the guest spots. She walked away from it with a few fond backwards glances, feeling very proud and happy with her little bug.

Stannis greeted her with a brusque kiss on the cheek at the door. “I need to finish and send an email before six o’clock.” He explained tersely, and disappeared into his study.

Sansa might have become a little miffed at his behaviour if she hadn’t become used to Stannis in what she liked to call ‘work mode’. She knew he needed a bit of time to wind down after challenging days at the office, and when he needed to keep working at home it obviously took him longer to unclench.

She used the time to put away the few items she had brought with her. A bottle of Stannis’ favourite red wine, a box of mochi, and a new negligé. The first two items went to the kitchen, the negligé she hid in the bedroom. She wanted to surprise Stannis with it. She intended to spoil him tonight and make sure he wanted her to sleep over as often as possible!

Knowing that he would join her as soon as he finished working, she made herself comfortable on the sofa and flicked through channels until she found an interesting documentary to watch. Sansa was just falling in love with the baby deer on the screen, after having learnt that both female and male deer shed and regrow new antlers every year, when Stannis finally emerged from his study.

“You know, the Baratheon family crest features a stag,” Stannis told her conversationally and sat down next to her, his eyes on the screen. She could hear that he had left the work stress behind. He was hers now, more relaxed and at ease.

“Yes, I’ve seen it. I kind of prefer the stylised stag in the company logo, though. Much more modern.” Sansa pressed herself against him as she spoke, tugging at his arms to get him to hold her.

“Hm, yes. I agree,” Stannis murmured, kissing her properly - not just a peck like she had received at the door. Sansa loved how he always made sure to kiss her. He knew how much she liked it, and she suspected he was quite fond of it himself.

Having greeted each other properly, they watched the documentary silently for a little while.

“What do you feel like having for dinner?” she asked at length, feeling a little embarrassed because the documentary was showing a stag mounting a doe and mating with her. Before he had a chance to reply she decided to tell him about the wine she had brought. Knowing about it might influence his choice. “I got you a bottle of your favourite Dornish red to go with the food. You know, since we’re celebrating.”

“We are?” He raised an eyebrow at her. “What’s the occasion?”

Sansa looked at him incredulously. Had he forgotten? “I’ve moved to King’s Landing,” she told him meaningfully. He nodded, but she could tell that he hadn’t made the connection. “That means I can spend the night here,” she reminded him.

His eyes widened slightly and the corners of his mouth twitched into his version of a smile. “Of course, I wasn’t thinking. That is definitely worth celebrating,” he kissed her again and she responded enthusiastically, glad that he was on the same page now.

“How about venison?” he asked, glancing at the screen and raising an eyebrow.

Feeling a little cruel after having just fallen in love with the sweet baby deer, Sansa nodded in agreement. She and Margaery were always meaning to start their vegan lifestyles - or vegetarian at least - but something always seemed to get in the way.

Stannis stood up to make the call to order their food, and Sansa immediately missed having his arms wrapped around her.

“I hope you didn’t order any dessert. I brought mochi,” she told him when he returned, hoping he would look pleased.

He raised both eyebrows. “I haven’t had mochi in months.” He definitely looked pleased, Sansa decided. A little surprised, but mostly pleased.

“I remember you liked it, and I wanted tonight to be special,” she explained, smiling and reaching out for him, indicating that she wanted him to sit down with her again.

“You know you don’t have to do that,” Stannis said a little awkwardly, after he had obliged her and pulled her into his arms once more.

“Do what?” she asked, suspecting he was feeling weird about the wine and the mochi, but not quite sure.

“You don’t have to bring me things,” he clarified, sounding uncomfortable.

“We’re celebrating! I just wanted to do something nice for you,” she explained patiently. She loved him and liked bringing him things and making him happy. Making him happy made her happy. It was all a big circle of happiness. Did he not get that?

“Seeing you is enough,” he told her quietly, tightening his grip on her.

Stannis wasn’t the type to compliment her with flowery words, or talk about how much he loved her, but occasionally he would say something, just like now, that meant even more to her for how genuine and loaded with meaning it was. It made her heart swell, and she started to _really_ look forward to showing him her new negligé.

Since the weather was nice they ended up sitting out on the balcony to eat. Sansa insisted that it was romantic, especially with the sunset painting the sky a myriad of colours in pink and orange shades. Stannis humoured her, though he warned that the venison would get cold sooner with them sitting outside in the breeze.

They both savoured the wine and the so-soft-it-melted-on-their-tongues meat, not really talking much, just enjoying each other’s company and watching the sky. Or at least, Sansa watched the sky. She caught Stannis looking at her more often than not.

By the time they finished eating, the breeze had picked up so they decided to finish the wine in their glasses inside the apartment, and taste the mochi that Sansa had brought.

“This is excellent - where did you find it?” Stannis asked curiously after his first bite.

“At the Japanese restaurant you took me to. I called and asked if I could buy a box to take with me, and they were happy to let me,” Sansa explained, feeling very pleased with herself for thinking of it.

Feeling full of delicious food and relaxed from the wine, Sansa asked Stannis what he would like to do with the rest of their evening.

“I think they’re showing the old television adaption of that novel you like tonight. The one with the proud, unpleasant rich gentleman and the witty, intelligent young lady,” Stannis said it with a straight face, but there was a teasing, amused glint in his eyes.

“Really?” Sansa brightened. She didn’t care if he was poking fun at her, if he was willing to watch her favourite television adaption of all time, she could tolerate all kinds of teasing. “You’d watch it with me?”

“There’s a distinct lack of political intrigue in the story, but it _is_ an adaption of classic masterpiece of literature. I think I should be able to tolerate it.” Stannis shrugged.

Sansa translated his words in her mind. What he meant was that he’d watch it with her because she liked it so much. She beamed at him and kissed him full on the mouth.

“What do you mean there’s no political intrigue? There’s an entire regiment of soldiers involved in the plot!” Sansa argued playfully when their kiss broke.

 

***

 

Stannis could not remember a time in his life where he had felt as consistently content and at peace. Sansa made him - dare he think it? - _happy_. It wasn’t just the sex, it was everything about her. She seemed to enjoy spending time with him no matter what they were doing, even when he dragged her out for a run she did not seem displeased. Of course she insisted on teaching him yoga in return, which was difficult, but at least she always wore those skintight outfits… 

It baffled him how she never complained when he was grumpy and up to his elbows in work. She did not seem annoyed or exasperated by it at all! He was at a loss as to how someone could be as kind and patient as she was.

He did his best to be worthy of her affection, and still winced at the memory of how he had behaved with her sexually at first. She’d actually had to ask him for more romance! He was thankful that his behaviour hadn’t caused her to give up on him, and was determined to treat her the way she deserved to be treated. He could easily do without taking her in every room of his apartment, over any table of the right height, in the shower, or on the kitchen floor. He could keep it to the bedroom. He could control his deviant impulses. _Really._

He could sit with her on his sofa, hold her to him, watch a classic adaption of a classic book, and not fantasise about the blow-job she’d given him at Dragonstone. Not even a little bit. Not even just about how she had maintained eye contact with him as she sank to her knees in that beautiful white dress, with her hair all wild and tumbling down her back…

Stannis resisted the urge to groan out loud. He had desperately wanted to ask her to repeat what she had done in his office ever since it had happened, but hadn’t wanted to appear selfish. He was also certain that it wasn’t a very romantic request to make. He could do without it. Selyse hadn’t wanted to do it very often either.

It was just… Sansa had appeared to like everything they had done. Hadn’t she? Or had he just been blinded by his own enjoyment? Had he only believed her to be enjoying herself? Had she felt pressured to impress him? Tried things that she wouldn’t have under normal circumstances?

These questions haunted him, and prevented him from attempting anything very adventurous. It wasn’t as if he were dissatisfied, anyway. There was definitely something very satisfying about slow, leisurely love-making in a comfortable bed, plenty of time to touch, kiss and explore.

It was greedy to want that _and_ the kind of sex they’d had in his study that one time. Greedy and unreasonable. 

_Seven hells it had been good, though..._

He had hurt her. She had tried to cover it up, saying that she had only been tender - not sore - but he knew he had hurt her. It had only been her third time, and he had been ramming himself in her with the kind of force he had rarely used in his life. _Fucking her._ Because he had wanted to. Because he had been _selfish_.

The guilt was part of the reason why he had kept to a much gentler touch ever since.

He tried to stop thinking about it and focus on the television screen. The heroine was explaining to the romantic lead that he was the last man on earth she could be prevailed upon to marry. He glanced at Sansa and saw her mouthing along with the words, transfixed by the characters.

He felt sorry for the man. It was a devastating speech. If Sansa ever rejected him like that he might not want to go on living. At the very least he’d be too depressed to go to work for a week -- a month! Possibly he’d buy a bottle of whiskey. Or ten.

“It’s so terrible, don’t you think?” Sansa sighed tragically.

“Yes, it was quite the rejection.” Stannis wondered if Sansa had read his mind.

“I’m so glad we never misunderstood each other like that.” Sansa pressed herself closer to him, kissing his neck in a very distracting way.

“Mm,” he agreed, not quite trusting himself to say more with her tongue doing _that._

All too soon she stopped, her attention back on the drama unfolding in front of them. She was seemingly completely unaware of the effect she had just had on him, unconcerned with the fact that he now wanted to tear her clothes off and have her straddle him and ride his cock right here on the couch. 

That was definitely not romantic, however.

He made himself pay attention to the show again, ignoring how tight his trousers had become. Eventually the problem would go away.

When it was finally time for the double wedding at the end, Stannis was almost asleep. Sansa’s happy exclamations brought him back to alert wakefulness.

“Oh, I love the ending! I’m sure they lived _so_ happily ever after.” She made a delighted sort of noise that he could not think of a name for. “Don’t you think it’s the best ending?”

Stannis always thought it was rather endearing how deeply involved she became in stories, but he still hadn’t quite got the hang of becoming similarly absorbed himself.

“It is a very satisfying conclusion to the story,” he told her truthfully. She smiled at him, but it turned into a yawn.

“I think I need to get ready for bed,” she kissed him and got up from the sofa, leaving him feeling rather bereft without her warmth.

He decided to load the dishwasher with the wineglasses, plates and cutlery they had abandoned in the sink, starting the machine with a few well-practised jabs of his finger. Taking the time to do this meant that when he joined her in the bedroom, she was just finishing her bed time routine in the en suite.

“All yours.” She gestured at the door she had just walked through. “I’m just going to change for bed.” There was an interesting note of excitement in her tone. He wondered if it just meant that she was excited to be sleeping over at last, or if he should read something else into it.

As he brushed his teeth he decided it was most likely just excitement at staying over for the night, which was why he was not expecting the scene that awaited him when he rejoined her.

Sansa had obviously posed herself very deliberately on the bed. Lying on her side with her hair tumbling attractively over one shoulder, propped up on one elbow, cleavage nearly spilling out of the _indecent_ negligé she had on. There was a dramatic dip at her waist, and the curve of her hip and thigh was only barely covered by the gauzy material of her ‘dress’. Her legs looked long and smooth, her bare feet dainty and pointed, toenails painted gold.

Stannis didn’t even think. He just started undressing with all due haste. His reaction made her smile, and she rose up into a seated position.

“Do you like it? It’s new,” she asked, smoothing the material of her negligé over her breasts and ribs. It was an incredibly erotic movement, and Stannis was unable to bite back the groan that escaped him.

“Yes, I like it,” he managed to say as the last of his clothing came off. He had hesitated a little before taking his underwear off, but decided just to get rid of it now rather than have to struggled with it after he lay down. Sansa’s eyes went to his groin, and she smiled smugly when she saw that he was hard.

“I believe you,” she told him playfully. She got on all fours and crawled towards him until she reached the edge of the bed. He watched her hungrily, feeling like the luckiest man in the world.

She rose up to her knees and kissed his chest, one hand trailing over his abdomen enjoyably and going downwards, all the way to his aching erection. As soon as her hot little hand closed around him he closed his eyes, concentrating on the feel of her holding him, stroking him, and trying to stop himself wishing for her to put him in her mouth. Her free hand grabbed one of his, and pulled slightly. She wanted him to get on the bed.

As soon as he was flat on his back, she straddled him. He could feel that she wasn’t wearing any underwear, and he groaned again as she started to rub herself against his cock. He knew he needed to get a condom quickly, because she was already wet enough for him to ease himself inside.

He reached for the drawer where he kept the condoms, but Sansa grabbed his hand and placed it on her breast instead.

“I’ve been on the pill for weeks. I want to know what it’s like without a condom,” Sansa explained in a breathy voice, still rubbing herself wantonly against him.

His hips jerked upwards at her words, excitement and lust rushing through him wildly.

Should he trust her word? He did not think for one minute that she would deliberately try to get pregnant, but she was young… The pill needed to be taken very consistently for it to offer proper protection. She might have forgotten once or twice...

The head of his cock slipped inside of her and he decided that Sansa was a very mature person who could definitely be trusted to take a pill at approximately the same time every day. It felt almost the same as with a condom on. Except much much better. There was nothing dulling the sensation of her heat clenching around his cock, nothing preventing him from feeling how wet she was for him. The friction felt somehow better too, he couldn’t explain how. He moved his hands to grasp her hips and thrust up into her, desperate for more of that blissful friction...

She gasped with pleasure and pushed herself down on him at the same time, until he was fully buried inside.

They had tried this position a few times before, but he did not think it was Sansa’s favourite. She tended to ask him to switch with her before long. He hoped she wouldn’t do it this time. He could feel his control slipping due to the searing heat of their connection, and he did not think he’d be able to go slowly if he were on top.

“Gods, it feels so good!” Sansa moaned, sounding almost surprised. He hoped she was just surprised at how different it felt without the condom. She was rocking against him, and he was fighting the urge to tighten his grip on her hips and manhandle her, lift her up and then force her down as he thrust up to meet her.

Her negligé needed to come off, he decided, in an effort to distract himself. He let go of her hips in order to pull it over her head, and she lifted her hands obligingly to facilitate. With her negligé off she was completely naked, and he was faced with a stunning view of her breasts. Unable to resist, he reached for them, alternatively rolling her nipples between his fingers and palming the firm, soft mounds. This caused a _very_ interesting reaction. She started to speed up, and grind herself against him, crying out desperately -- especially when he focused on her nipples.

He kept it up for a while, both since it was very enjoyable and empowering to have this effect on her, and also because it kept his hands busy and unable to grip her hips tightly and move her aggressively against him.

She sounded like she was very close, but unable to reach her peak. His first instinct was to flip them over and pound her into the mattress, but he suppressed the urge with a healthy dose of guilt. Still, he knew he needed to help her, so on a hunch, he placed one hand where their bodies met, rubbing circles over a place he was intimately familiar with. He knew it would increase her pleasure, but he wasn’t sure if it would be enough. 

Apparently, it was. She sped up even further, breaths coming out as gasps, occasionally as moans.

He could _feel_ when she started to come. Her inner muscles fluttering around him, tightening impossibly, making him gasp. It took him by complete surprise that he would feel it so accurately, and he simply - _embarrassingly_ \- came on the spot from the intense pleasure. Despite his total disorientation, he managed to continue using his hand to help her finish, encouraged by her cries.

“Yes, yes, _please!_ Please, Stannis, it’s so good! Don’t stop!”

Though he had already climaxed, he was enjoying the feel of her moving over him, the pull of her, the _heat_. It really was much more potent somehow without the latex. Obviously it was more pleasurable, since he hadn’t even lasted through her orgasm…

She slowed, and came to a halt, breathing heavily through parted lips. He enjoyed the view of her breasts heaving right in front of him, not feeling too bad about staring since she had her eyes closed.

They parted, Sansa collapsing beside him.

“Oh! It’s so… _messy_. I think I have to go clean up.” Sansa sounded surprised and embarrassed. 

Of course, she would never have experienced what it was like to have a man release inside of her, Stannis realised. He remembered Selyse complaining about how messy it was, how _disgusting._

Did Sansa think it was disgusting? He felt a pang of worry. He didn’t want her to think that.

Sansa got up from bed, tip-toeing to the washroom. When she returned she brought a warm washcloth for him. “I thought you might want to clean up, too.”

He thanked her and got up on one elbow so that he could wipe the sticky evidence of their recent activity away. “If it’s too much of a mess we can always just stick to condoms,” he offered, though he would definitely miss being able to feel her so well.

“No, I really liked this!” Sansa objected sincerely. She paused, a confused expression on her face. “I just thought - I thought the, you know, _everything_ was supposed to stay inside, that’s all.” She bit her lip and looked at him, searching his face for answers.

He kissed her, feeling very protective of her all of a sudden.

“No, it’s normal for most of _’everything’_ to follow along with gravity,” he explained seriously. She nodded in understanding, looking relieved that things were as they should be.

“Oh, that’s all right then.” She smiled and cuddled up to him pleasantly. “Did you like it?”

Did he like it? She had no idea… 

“Very much,” He said decisively, not wanting to leave her in any doubt. 

Sansa searched his face, looking for something. She looked confused, and maybe a little disappointed, though he couldn’t be sure.

“Then why didn’t you… um. Never mind,” Sansa shook her head and laughed, “I’m just being silly.” she said, still smiling.

He was very curious about what she had been about to ask him, but when he attempted to question her about it, she distracted him with kisses. He understood that she didn’t want to elaborate, so he left it alone.

He lay awake for a long time after she fell asleep just wondering. _What had she expected him to do?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They are of course watching the 1995 BBC version of Pride and Prejudice. Some of you may have realised that Sansa was also reading P&P before Sandor visited her at Winterfell. 
> 
> I'm sure you can guess which costume Sansa intends to wear.


	26. A good dream

Sansa stood in front of the full length mirror in Margaery’s hotel room, examining herself critically. Margaery had just finished helping her get her hair into the long, thick braid and the headdress her costume required, and she turned her head this way and that to view it from all angles.

“Are you sure I should leave it red? The character is a brunette,” Sansa asked her friend worriedly. She had bought a canister of spray-on hair dye and was fiddling with the label.

“ _Yes._ You want people to recognise you, don’t you? Plus, you look hot. Don’t worry about the colour,” Margaery dismissed Sansa’s concerns with a wave of her hand, smiling in excitement, “I’m not changing my hair colour to orange, now am I?” she added.

Margaery, not to be outdone by Sansa at her own party, had decided to dress up in another famously sexy Sci-Fi outfit, baring even more skin than Sansa’s costume did. It could hardly be said to consist of more than some white strips of bandage-like cloth, covering strategic places.

At least Sansa’s gold bikini came with lengths of fabric that almost functioned as a skirt.

The party was due to start in minutes, and Margaery was anxious to get downstairs to the hotel’s bar lounge. Sansa had helped her friend decorate the space where the party would be held earlier that day. Everything was ready and perfectly attuned to the Sci-Fi theme. Margaery had even managed to get her hands on a large replica of an infamous space ship to suspend from the ceiling.

‘Lounge’ was perhaps the wrong word for the large area Margaery had acquired for the night. There was a dance floor and a DJ booth, a bar and several clusters of couches where people might sit and chat.

Almost as soon as she and Margaery made it downstairs, people started arriving in droves. The wealthy and privileged young men and women of Westeros had spared no expense dressing up for the party, and Sansa spent the next hour enjoyably greeting the guests with Margaery and whispering critiques and comments as soon as the people were out of earshot. She sipped Champagne and did not feel scared or intimidated by any of the boys looking at her. She felt confident, sexy and _untouchable._

The noise level in the lounge increased exponentially with each guest that arrived, or so Sansa felt, until she could barely make herself heard when she wanted to scoff at the third guy who showed up in a long, expensive-looking leather duster, with a fake shotgun and sunglasses. She had to make do with rolling her eyes at Margaery instead.

When it seemed that most of the invited guests had arrived, Sansa and Maragery started to mingle. Sansa wondered when Joffrey would arrive, but quickly put the thought out of her mind. She did not want to waste her time considering the issue.

Soon Sansa had her plate full answering questions about her relationship with Stannis, anyway. It seems _everyone_ was just fascinated by what she saw in him, and they wanted to know what was he like _really,_ was he good in bed, and was she pregnant, or were they getting engaged?

She felt sure that she would have blushed and stammered at the crude, probing questions a few months ago, but now she just laughed and answered the less insulting questions as politely as she could, while rolling her eyes theatrically at others. Sometimes Margaery ‘helped’ by explaining that Sansa needed a wheelchair most days, and that Stannis was magnificently endowed like an elephant. This generally got curious gossips to shriek with laughter or at least stop asking.

Renly and Loras walked up to her at one point to compliment her costume.

“I can’t believe how authentic it looks, Sansa!” Renly gushed, “I should know, do you have any idea how often Stannis watched those films when I was little? I swear, I can still reel off all the dialogue by heart.”

“He can, even the strange sounds that the hairy beast makes,” Loras confirmed fondly.

“Really?” she exclaimed. Sansa was very surprised. She hadn’t had a single clue that Stannis liked _any_ Sci-Fi films.

“Oh, yes. He says he likes the politics, but I think he just has a soft spot for explosions in space,” Renly confided, a cheerful smile on his face, “he pretends to be too grown up for it these days, but I’m sure he has the films stashed away somewhere.” Renly paused to wrinkle his nose in disgust. “Not the Christmas special, though. It was shit.”

Sansa giggled, and the conversation moved on to the property prices in King’s Landing. Loras and Renly were trying to find a place together, and they thought the price for a ‘decent apartment’ - probably meaning a tricked out penthouse - was simply outrageous. Sansa wasn’t very interested, so she soon excused herself and wandered over to another group of people.

A lot of boys attempted to flirt with her, despite her being very publicly off the market, especially as the evening wore on and they became more inebriated. Sansa usually felt a small twinge of fear whenever a slightly drunken boy approached her, but she stood her ground and shut them down confidently each time. She knew where all the bouncers that Margaery had hired were, and knew she would only need to snap her fingers if anyone got too aggressive for her liking. To her amazement, it rarely came to that. Most of the young men listened when she told them no in a decisive, confident tone, and they preferred to try their luck with the next girl in a skimpy outfit rather than start trouble.

She had almost forgot all about Joffrey, feeling pleasantly buzzed from the few glasses of Champagne she had imbibed and almost high with the thrill of standing up for herself and actually being _listened_ to, when all of a sudden she was faced with her ex. Sandor was standing a few paces behind Joffrey, looking broody and unpleasant, not wearing a costume. Joffrey, on the other hand, was pretentiously dressed up all in white, with a black bowler hat and false eyelashes on one eye.

Sansa smiled briefly at Sandor and glared at Joffrey.

“What are you doing here?” Sansa demanded imperiously, “you weren’t invited.”

“Who cares? I wanted a word with you, you little bitch,” Joffrey spat, glaring right back at her. She could tell he was a little surprised at her confidence, obviously having expected her to cower like she had always done before him in the past. She also noticed that he was having trouble keeping his focus on her face, his eyes kept straying to take in her costume -- just like every other boy she had talked to that night.

Let him look. Let him see what he had thrown away, and what he would never _ever_ touch or hurt again. Let him see that his behaviour had not broken her, not made her hide herself away from the world. Let him know that she would confidently strut around however she pleased, without a single thought to spare on whether he would approve or not.

“There’s no need for bad language, Joffrey,” Sansa scolded mildly, making sure he knew that his insult had not touched her.

“I’ll call you a bitch if I want, you fucking whore,” Joffrey puffed himself up and glanced at Sandor, as if to make sure his foul mouth had an audience.

Sansa just raised an eyebrow at him. She did not even have to feign her boredom.

“I want your phone, bitch. The one with the original pictures of your hideous tits. Give it to me,” Joffrey demanded, holding his hand out palm up.

Sansa just stared at him in incredulous disgust, as if she had just spotted a hot pink slug on her dinner plate. “Why on earth would I do that?”

“If you don’t, I’ll have Clegane beat you. Or hold you down while I finally fuck that frigid little cunt of yours,” he threatened, a malevolent gleam in his eyes. There was no lust there, just the sadistic excitement that she had become so familiar with while they had been together. She suddenly felt fifteen again, afraid, powerless and under Joffrey’s thumb. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to close her mind to the horrible memories that were surfacing.

There was a loud crash. Sansa hastened to open her eyes to see what had happened.

Joffrey was lying next to a small table that had toppled over, a glass of beer had spilled all over him and broken into a few neat pieces. Sandor was standing over him and rubbing his fist absently.

“WHAT THE HELL, CLEGANE?” Joffrey shrieked, outraged.

“I’m fucking leaving,” Sandor growled. Then he dug his hand into one of his jacket pockets and threw the gold plated lighter at Joffrey’s head, missing by an inch. The boy on the floor flinched and cowered.

“Take care of yourself, little bird,” Sandor told her, not having to raise his voice since the lounge had gone deathly quiet after Joffrey crashed to the floor. Sansa nodded at Sandor, giving him a grateful smile.

With one last filthy look at Joffrey, Sandor turned on his heel and stalked from the lounge. Everyone moved to make way for him, the crowd parting as if he were royalty.

Joffrey got to his feet angrily. “What are you looking at?” he spat a girl who was standing nearby. She giggled nervously and moved away.

“I think you should leave, Joffrey,” Sansa said, making her tone as icy as she knew how.

“What if I don’t feel like it?” he asked threateningly, attempting to loom over her and failing. They were of a height flat footed, and she was not wilting like she would have in the past.

“If you don’t leave quietly, Sam here will remove you,” Sansa nodded at the rotund bouncer who had snuck up behind Joffrey, a man had a deceptively friendly face, but he obviously knew his business.

Joffrey stood his ground stubbornly, crossing his hands in front of his chest. Sam grabbed him by the elbow. Joffrey attempted to brush the larger man off, but found that Sam’s grip was like a vice.

“Tell this idiot to unhand me. Don’t you know who I am?” Joffrey whined, scowling at anyone and everyone in the vicinity.

Sansa walked right up to Joffrey, getting in his face, encroaching on his personal space. She was pleased when he shrank back from her a little.

“Leave, and don’t ever come near me again. You’re beneath my notice,” she hissed, feeling victorious. More loudly she told Sam to take the gatecrasher off the premises in a commanding tone of voice. Sam started to drag an unwilling Joffrey towards the door.

“Wait, you can’t do this! I’m a Lannister!” Joffrey shrieked, fighting Sam’s hold tooth and nail.

The silent crowd started to titter in amusement at the humiliated boy, and by the time Sam had taken him outside, many were outright laughing.

The music became louder, and the party went back to normal, dozens of conversations starting up and increasing the noise levels again.

Margaery slunk up to Sansa and gave her a silent bit of applause. “Well done, Sansa! I knew you could do it,” Margaery told her admiringly.

Sansa felt elated and exhausted both at the same time. She couldn’t believe she had finally stood up to herself and told Joffrey to stay away from her. It seemed like something another Sansa had done, in a different life, but it had been _her_ and it had been _amazing._

Now she just wanted to go sleep for the next twenty hours or so.

“I think I’m all partied out,” Sansa sighed, exaggerating a yawn, “will you be offended if I bail?”

“No, it’s getting late. Go home to your _lover._ ” Margaery put a heavy emphasis on the last word, batting her eyelashes in a very silly way.

“Do you think he’s still awake?” Sansa asked, ignoring her friend’s teasing.

“Sure. Otherwise you’ll just wake him.” Maragery shrugged. Then she smiled wickedly. “In that outfit he won’t mind if you operate on him without anesthesia and steal a kidney. Much less wake him up.”

Sansa couldn’t help but giggle at the mental image Margaery gave her, but sobered up quickly enough. Seeing Joffrey had been rather draining, and Sansa could actually imagine nothing nicer than going to see Stannis and having him hold her and tell her she’d done well.

… and seeing his reaction to her costume might be interesting, too.

Perhaps he would like it enough to lose a bit of that iron control of his? She had thought he might do something a bit more aggressive when she had asked to go without condoms the other night, but he had barely even grabbed her. It had been very good, of course - if a bit messy - but she had hoped he would really let loose, like he had when they’d been in his study.

If this costume didn’t bring it out in him, she didn’t know what would. She still remembered how he’d reacted to the idea of having her as his love slave, after all.

Sansa knew that if this didn’t work, she would have to say something to him. She almost had last time, but she had chickened out at the last minute. She was a little worried that if she asked him to be more forceful, he would stop being gentle and romantic. She wasn’t sure if she could get him to understand that she wanted _both._ Just… depending on her mood. It seemed like a difficult thing to explain.

She said her goodbyes to Margaery and a few others, and went up to Margaery’s room to fetch her coat and the rest of her things. She texted Stannis to let him know that she was on her way, and hoped that he was awake.

A taxi and a lift ride later, she was standing outside his door. He had replied to her text while she had been in the cab, so she knew he would open the door for her. She knocked, wondering how he would respond to such a late call.

The door opened, and Stannis greeted her looking a little rumpled, but alert.

“I thought you’d be at Margaery’s party until much later. I hadn’t expected you to want to come here,” he told her, running his hand through his already messy hair. Sansa was blindsided by the arousal that just the sight of her rumpled, concerned-looking boyfriend awakened. Suddenly sleep was not very high on her list of priorities.

Sansa walked to the nearest sofa and collapsed there, not even taking her coat off. It was a light summer trench, so it did not really bother her to wear it inside. Anyway, she didn’t want Stannis to see her costume quite yet. Despite her arousal, she needed to talk to him about Joffrey, and she needed for both of them to stay focused. She had a feeling that if she showed him what she was wearing they would not be focusing on _conversation_ for a while.

“Joffrey showed up. I sort of knew he would because Sandor warned me he was planning to gatecrash. It was still rather awful. Joffrey called me all sorts of nasty names and seemed to think he could intimidate me into handing over the phone with the original pictures of me. You know, the topless ones.” Sansa was speaking fast, words coming out in a jumble. “He threatened to make Sandor beat me, or hold me down so Joffrey could… hurt me.” Sansa shuddered at the memory of the ugly threat Joffrey had made. It didn’t seem quite real, somehow. “But Sandor punched him and left!” Sansa still couldn’t believe Sandor had done it. She’d need to check up on him soon to see if he needed anything and make sure he was all right. “I told Joffrey to get lost after that, and one of the bouncers dragged him out,” she finished, glancing at Stannis for the first time since she began speaking.

He looked _furious._ For some reason that just made Sansa want him more. She pressed her thighs together surreptitiously, trying not to squirm.

“That intolerable little shit needs to be taught a proper lesson one of these days,” Stannis growled, narrowing his eyes.

“I don’t care. I’m just glad I got to tell him off. I was always too scared of him before,” Sansa admitted, feeling a strange mixture of relief and disappointment when Stannis visibly calmed down, sat next to her and pulled her into his arms. She didn’t really want him to be angry and upset, but it had been oddly attractive in a way. She didn’t want him to be the type of guy who went after people who caused her problems with a shotgun, but knowing that he cared about her enough to get angry when anyone threatened her made her heart beat faster.

“I hope you never feel scared of him again,” Stannis spoke into her hair, his voice a little muffled, but he sounded sincere and supportive. Sansa pressed her thighs together more tightly. His sweet concern was even more attractive than his anger.

Stannis was everything she wanted and needed, and she pressed herself close, enjoying the comfort of him. It was a little confusing, feeling this mixture of arousal and disquiet, but the stress of her meeting with Joffrey was fading away and a feeling of peace and safety was returning to her. Joffrey didn’t matter. _She_ mattered. Stannis mattered. Her family and her friends mattered. Joffrey was nothing. His threats were _nothing._

She took a deep breath and moved a little away from Stannis so she could see his face. Now that her disquiet had settled, all she was left with was her increasingly demanding arousal. If she didn’t have him soon she would scream in frustration!

Had he felt like this? Before she had been ready to do more than kiss and touch a little? _How had he been able to stand it?_

“Did I tell you that tonight was a costume party?” She couldn’t quite recall if she’d had a chance to discuss it with him at any length. She was sure she hadn’t told him what kind of costume she was wearing, because she’d had a vague idea that he wouldn’t jump with joy at the notion of her wearing something like her gold bikini in public, but had she mentioned that there would be costumes?

“I think I remember you saying something about making your costume, yes,” Stannis nodded, his eyes going to her coat -- clearly curious about what she might be wearing underneath.

“Do you want to see?” she asked shyly, embarrassment and arousal painting her cheeks pink. What would he think of it? Would it be enough to get him to take her the way she desperately needed him to?

Stannis nodded mutely, observing her shyness and her blushing with keen interest. She stood up, leaving him seated on the sofa by himself. She planted herself directly in front of him, her heartbeat speeding up to a frantic pounding, and undid the belt of her trench coat. Then she unbuttoned it slowly, carefully, making sure it did not gape open prematurely.

Looking him straight in the eyes, still blushing a little, she opened the coat and dropped it to the floor.

Stannis’ jaw literally dropped open in shocked disbelief. His eyes widened and started to roam from her head down to her toes, erratically going back to her chest or abdomen again and again on his way down.

As he was wearing very loose-fitting sleepwear, Sansa could see the obvious physical reaction he was having to the sight of her tenting the front of his pyjama bottoms. It felt very gratifying to see it, and Sansa _knew_ that he would not be able to resist her tonight. Not if he was on tenterhooks before she even _did_ anything. He looked like he had forgot how to breathe! Heat pooled between her thighs in anticipation of what he might do, and she felt her breathing deepen and slow in the way it often did when she was very intensely aroused.

“What do you think?” She asked, biting her lip coyly and turning in a circle in front of him.

Stannis made a strangled sound that might have been supposed to be mean something. She couldn’t be sure. She felt flattered and desired, empowered and _beautiful._

“You like it, then?” She looked down at herself and fiddled with the folds of fabric that fell from her belt, smoothing them out nervously.

Stannis reached out to touch her, looking a little like he was trying to confirm that she was really there. She stepped nearer, making it easier for him to reach. He touched the metal work on her top and trailed his fingers down to her exposed navel. It sent a shudder of pleasure through her.

“Does it look authentic? Do you think I’d pass for a highly prized slave?” Sansa teased, hoping to get him to react in some way. She needed him to react. She wanted him _so badly._

He let out a loud breath, nodding and giving her a desperate, starved look. Just seeing him look at her that way was sending more tendrils of heat to her core. Her skin tingled with want.

“Do you think you could afford me?” She continued, wanting to push him as far as she dared.

“I certainly hope so.” He finally managed to use words, but he sounded hoarse and more than a little strained. His hands had not left her body since they had found it, stroking her reverently and almost tickling her sometimes. It was not enough. Not by a long shot.

“What would you have me do if I was your prize?” she whispered, feeling sexy and playful and impossibly needy. The idea of him ordering her around was making her so _wet._

She looked at his eyes and practically saw as they became glazed over and consumed with lust. It was a look she had missed, and it made her knees weak and her body heat up further. She felt almost incapacitated with arousal. She knew she was about to get exactly what she had wished for. _Finally._

It did not occur to her that sometimes it was prudent to be careful what one wished for.

***

Stannis was not quite fast asleep when he got Sansa’s text message, but he had been on his way there. It took him a moment to process the fact that the sound he had heard meant that he had received a message. It took another moment for him to understand that he should probably check what it was. After he had read it and registered that Sansa was on her way to him, he decided to get up and drink some water.

Feeling sufficiently alert, he replied to her message and went to wait for her arrival. It surprised him that she would want to visit him so late in the evening. Wouldn’t it be more fun to continue spending time with her friends? He was reasonably certain that any party Margaery Tyrell threw would not be over at one AM.

He almost fell asleep on the sofa while he waited, but was thankfully still conscious when Sansa knocked.

He told her that he was surprised to see her and was shocked and furious at her explanation. How dare that little _shit_ of Cersei’s threaten Sansa? Stannis felt murderous. If he ever saw Joffrey again… Well. 

There would be trouble.

Sansa did not seem terribly shaken, however. She looked almost pleased. He understood why when she told him that she had stood up for herself against Joffrey - something she had always been too afraid to do before.

Stannis felt proud of her then, and happy for her. It was a big step to conquer the fear of a past abuser. He sat down next to her, pulling her into his arms and doing his best to show her his support and affection. He was not so very good with words, but she was like Shireen. She seemed to understand him anyway.

He thought he should say _something_ , however, so he expressed a hope that she would never feel frightened of her shit of an ex again.

Sansa melted against him and he relaxed too, enjoying the simple pleasure of having her in his arms, even though she was still in her coat for some reason. Her hair was up in a vaguely familiar braided hairstyle, he knew he had seen it before somewhere but he was too tired to think too hard on it. He was more concerned with the fresh, wonderful scent of it. He wanted to breathe it in and never have to exhale. He settled for slow, deep breaths instead. He started to feel sleepy again.

Sansa moved away and looked at him, making him snap to attention -- all thoughts of sleep gone.

“Did I tell you that tonight was a costume party?”

Stannis thought he could recall her mentioning that she was making a costume and he told her so. He looked at her coat with considerable interest. _What was she hiding underneath?_ Was it something terribly scandalous, since she had not dared take it off yet?

She blushed and asked him if he wanted to see. Her blush might very well support his theory that she was wearing a scandalous costume. Otherwise it was something embarrassing. He found himself hoping for the scandalous option as he nodded, confirming his interest in seeing what lay underneath her coat.

His eyes were riveted to her form as she stood up and started to undress. Her movements were slow, deliberate, and deceptively seductive. He felt his blood heat up in anticipation.

Their eyes met, a daring glint in her blues, and she dropped the trench to the floor.

Stannis felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. Sansa was dressed in a gold bikini. _The_ gold bikini. It had featured prominently in some of his earliest sexual fantasies, and now _his girlfriend was wearing an exact replica._ All rational thought became impossible as every last drop of blood abandoned his brain in favour of seeking lower ground.

She asked him for his opinion and actually turned around in a slow circle for him. He began to suspect that he was dreaming.

Things like this did not happen to him. This had to be a dream. It was the only explanation.

He heard an undignified sound escape his throat, but it did not matter. This wasn’t actually really happening. It was all in his head.

“You like it, then?” Sansa was playing with the fabric of her costume, looking pink with pleasure at his very obvious approval, and so very _achingly_ gorgeous that he thought he might _die_. Maybe he was dead? Was this the afterlife?

Would he be able to touch her if this was a dream? He reached for her tentatively, wondering if his hand would pass right through her. It did not. She was warm and solid, soft and perfect under his fingertips.

“Does it look authentic? Do you think I’d pass for a highly prized slave?” Sansa’s voice was low and soft, a playful lilt to it. He could not imagine anything more sexy than her voice at this moment.

As for her question, she need not even ask. She was not highly prized, she was _priceless._ The gross national income of a powerful, rich country would not suffice. He nodded at her, feeling dazed and wanting her so badly that it was starting to _hurt._

“Do you think you could afford me?”

 _Gods._ He would pay anything, he would sell his very soul.

“I certainly hope so,” he heard himself croak. He was frankly amazed that his voice had worked at all. He was even more amazed at the restraint his hands were managing to show. He was still stroking her, but gently - his touch feather-light.

He supposed he was afraid that the dream would end if he made any sudden, forceful moves.

“What would you have me do if I was your prize?” 

Her voice was now a breathy whisper, and he could not take it anymore. If this was a dream, he would make the most of it. If it ended, at least he would know that he had _tried._ She was asking him what he would do if she were his slave, subject to his every whim, for fuck’s sake! What was a man to do with that?

He’d been suppressing his more adventurous desires for _weeks_ and he was _full_ of ideas.

“I’d ask you to use your mouth on me,” he said, his voice low and dark.

Sansa flushed prettily, her eyes darkening with lust, and she moved to reach for a throw pillow. Stannis watched her with interest as she placed the pillow on the floor in front of him, sank to her knees and tentatively touched his erection through the fabric of his sleepwear.

He groaned as soon as she touched him, the contact was such blessed relief. She seemed encouraged by his reaction, and went to pull the waistband down, freeing his cock. He moved himself forward until he was sitting on the edge of the couch, Sansa kneeling between his thighs.

She looked at him with her darkened eyes, searching for something. He looked back, liking the image she presented a little too much. It was all right, though. This was just a dream. He’d just enjoy this and worry about what the fantasy said about him later.

Sansa grasped his cock firmly, stroking it expertly, looking up at him the whole time. Then with a slightly unsure expression, her eyes fixed on his, she hesitantly moved her lips to the head of his cock, opening her mouth to envelop it. She looked better than any fantasy he had ever concocted and he didn’t know how he was supposed to last five minutes with this vision of perfection on her knees in front of him.

Still maintaining eye contact, she licked at him. Gods, it was the most exquisite thing he had ever felt. When she had done this at Dragonstone Tower he had almost been too panicked and excited to really register those initial experimental licks, but now he could feel them perfectly.

She started to suck on the head of his cock, moving her hand up and down.

“Yes, fuck, _yes!_ ” he hissed in pleasure, closing his eyes and letting his head loll back to rest on the back of the couch, loving every little movement of her hand and all the overwhelming sensations of her mouth on him -- her lips, her tongue, the heat, the wetness, the excruciatingly pleasurable pulling feeling when she _sucked._

Afraid that she would disappear if he kept his eyes closed for too long, he looked down at her. She looked up at the same time, her eyes searching for his approval. He almost came just from the sight of her in that costume, with his cock in her mouth, and that look in her eyes, but managed to restrain himself. He never wanted this to end.

He found himself wishing that she would take a little more of him into her mouth, and suck a little harder - maybe use her free hand to fondle some of the sensitive places in the vicinity.

Then he remembered that this was a dream, a fantasy, a _slave_ fantasy. He could try just asking her to do what he wanted, couldn’t he? The worst thing that could happen was that she wouldn’t want to, or possibly that he would wake up. It was a chance he was willing to take.

“Go deeper,” he heard himself command in that low, dark voice he hardly recognised.

Sansa looked at him, eyes widening slightly, the blush on her cheeks deepening, but she did as he asked. A loud exhale escaped him, almost a grunt of pleasure. It felt _incredible._ He closed his eyes again to concentrate on the sensation.

“Use your other hand too,” he ordered a little breathlessly, feeling hazy.

Sansa stopped. He opened his eyes to look at her, wondering what the problem was. She was blinking up at him, blushing and confused. She obviously didn’t understand what he wanted her to do.

“Give me your hand and get back to it,” he said imperiously, already missing the heat of her mouth unbearably. Sansa looked relieved that he was going to guide her, and did as he bid. He groaned in pleasure at the renewed feeling of her eager mouth on him, and was too distracted to guide her hand for a few moments. Eventually his desire for her to touch prompted him to move her hand where he wanted it. He watched her as her fingertips came into contact with his sac which was already tightening up in anticipation of his release. He didn’t think it was possible, but her blush deepened even further. He was very pleased when she started to tentatively touch him without further instruction.

“Perfect. Now suck harder,” he commanded, feeling impossibly close to climaxing. This was the best head he had ever received, however, and he did not want it to stop just yet. He gritted his teeth and held on by a thread. He tried to stop himself from thrusting up to meet her when she sucked down, but sometimes he couldn’t help himself. It made her take him in even deeper, and it felt _decadent._

Sansa started to suck harder as he had asked, and he could not resist looking at her again. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked, and he thought he might _faint_ with pleasure.

“Good. That’s good. Oh, fuck! _Sansa!_ “ He felt like he should praise her, she was doing so well…

Without him having to ask, she sped up. The feeling of it, combined with the sight of her working on him with her mouth and her hands, was enough to push him over the edge. He came with a blinding force, and he called out and cursed with abandon, not even trying to restrain himself like he usually did.

Watching as she attempted to swallow every drop was incredibly erotic, even more so when she missed some, and it ran down her chin. Just as he had seen her do last time, she wiped at it, licking it up from the back of her hand as if she liked the taste. He groaned loudly at the sight, wishing he did not need a little time to recover, he wanted to fuck her until she screamed his name -- until she begged for mercy.

He’d get to that.

First he wanted to watch her. He had wanted to watch her touch herself for a _long_ time, and he could think of nothing better to do while he waited for his body to recover.

Sansa had stood up and walked to the kitchen, he was too spent to do anything about it. Hopefully she would return directly. He heard the tap running, and then she was walking back, looking glorious in her tiny costume, moving gracefully - hips swaying hypnotically - towards him. She was drinking from a glass of water, and when she reached him she offered him a sip. He accepted gratefully.

She sat down next to him, her face very flushed, obviously aroused and curious.

He could tell that she was about to ask him something, but he did not want her to. So he cut her off before she even got one syllable out.

“Lie down. Make yourself comfortable and spread your legs,” he ordered, a fresh wave of arousal passing through him. He was really enjoying this fantasy. This very _realistic_ fantasy, where Sansa was concerned with pillows for her knees and getting drinks of water…

He closed his eyes briefly, waiting for his heart to start beating again.

This _was_ a dream, wasn’t it?

He opened his eyes and looked at Sansa. She had unquestioningly done as he had asked and was looking at him, breathless and excited.

Definitely a dream.

“Touch yourself,” he whispered hoarsely, his cock already starting to twitch.

Sansa’s eyes widened and her pink flush deepened to crimson. “Stannis!” she exclaimed, obviously embarrassed. _Was it bad that he liked that?_

He moved to push the fabric that was covering her from view aside. There was only the tiny string bikini hiding her now, and he reached for her hand, placing it where he wanted it.

“I don’t know - I mean, I’ve never really - I can’t do it the way you do it!” Sansa said, eyes still wide and teeth worrying at her bottom lip enticingly.

Her words made him curious. How _did_ she do it, then? He ordered her to tell him.

“Oh, um. I-I usually just use a - um - a pillow,” she stammered, her face a contradiction of lust and embarrassment. It was maddeningly attractive.

“If you can get yourself off using a pillow, you can get yourself off with your fingers. I’ll tell you what to do,” he told her ruthlessly, enjoying the way she pressed her thighs together and squirmed at his words.

“Place your fingertips where I usually do - yes, there - and rub slow circles.” His body was already tensing up with excitement at having her obey him like this and getting to watch her. He wouldn’t be able to get hard quite yet, but it would not be very long.

“Push the fabric aside,” he told her, impatient to see her properly.

She did as he asked, but she also closed her thighs shyly, hiding herself from his eyes. It was very silly of her as he had seen her countless times now. Still, it was rather endearing.

“Spread your thighs, I mean to watch you,” he commanded. Endearing or not, he wanted to see.

Her lips parted and her breathing sped up, and she was blushing as much as she ever did, but she did as he asked. With the bikini pushed out of the way, he had an unimpeded view of her glistening folds, and he could see that her fingertips were still circling as he had commanded.

“Use your other hand to put as many fingers as you want inside of yourself. Continue circling with your first hand.”

She moaned and did as he bid. She used two fingers and looked like she was starting to enjoy herself and forget her embarrassment.

“How does it feel?” he asked, greedy for her answer.

“It’s good, _ah!_ ” she gasped, and he noticed that she sped up, “what shall I do next?” Her voice was very breathless, and she definitely sounded like she was enjoying herself.

“Continue as you are, don’t stop or remove your hands unless I tell you to,” he told her, his voice a gravelly rasp. Watching her finger herself while she wore that gold bikini was getting him back to full arousal faster than he could have imagined. He could not _wait_ to get inside of her.

“Oh, oh! I need to stop, it’s too much, I can’t - I can’t - oh, Stannis, _oh!_ ” Sansa cried out and bucked against her own hand, her palm now flat against her most sensitive spot, fingers pumping in and out at a fast, desperate pace.

Stannis watched her greedily, his cock hardening with every _’oh’_ , enjoying the fact that she would not be peaking like this if he had not forbidden her from stopping or taking her hands away -- enjoying the fact that she had _obeyed._

“Now you may remove your hands,” Stannis said, when he could see that she had come down from her high. Her eyes were closed, but she opened them lazily at his words, a blissful, satisfied look on her face.

The look turned into an expression of surprise, excitement and slight concern, when she saw that he was hard again. Making sure that she was still watching, he removed his sleepwear, standing up from the couch to do so.

“Get up, please,” he asked. The words were polite, but the tone commanding. He was surprised at how easy it was to be so high-handed, but did not stop to consider it properly.

He sat down with her standing in front of him and unceremoniously pulled her into his lap, making her straddle him. He wanted her to ride him, and he meant to manhandle her the way he had wanted to the last time. The mere thought excited him beyond all reason.

She seemed to understand what he expected of her, and was already guiding the head of his cock inside, sinking down on him. It felt _heavenly_ and then even better than heaven when she started to move. He let her do as she wished for a little while, wanting her to get comfortable with him inside. When he could not stand to wait any longer, he grasped her hips and started to guide her movements. Soon he was lifting her up and pushing her down forcefully as he thrust into her at the same time. Little grunts and pants were escaping him each time he slid home, and she was moaning and crying his name, writhing under his hands. It was almost a shame that she was wearing that metal top, otherwise he might have taken a break to fondle her breasts. She had had such a gratifying reaction to it last time she had ridden him...

He knew she was almost at her peak when she started sobbing his name and trying to prolong their contact, grinding against him when he was fully sheathed, but he did not wish her to finish yet. He wanted her desperate and ready to let him do _anything._

He pulled her off, forcing her to stand by standing up himself.

“What? What is it?” she asked, confused and unsteady on her feet.

He pulled her around to the other side of the sofa, making her face the back of the couch, himself standing behind her.

“Bend over,” he commanded, feeling completely deviant and highly turned on, hoping that she wouldn’t object. Being bent over a sofa was possibly the least romantic thing he could offer her, but he _wanted it._

She looked over her shoulder at him, her eyes wide but dark with lust, her cheeks stained red with arousal and embarrassment. She blinked a few times and licked her lips, breathing heavily. Then she slowly bent forwards, until she was balancing completely on the back of the sofa, the lovely curve of her arse presented to him nicely.

He moved the long piece of flowing fabric to the side, and the string of her bikini too. She spread her thighs for him willingly, and he could _see_ how wet she was.

Unable to delay any longer, he entered her in one swift stroke, proceeding to slam himself into her as hard as he wanted, making up for every repressed urge of the last few weeks. To his surprised pleasure, Sansa was pushing herself back against him, almost as if she wanted _more._

Listening to her could only lead him to confirm this suspicion.

“Yes, yes, _yes!_ Please, Stannis, harder, more, deeper, ah, _ah!_ ” 

Her cries triggered something primal within him, and he started to ram himself into her in a way that he would hardly have thought himself capable of previously. Every sense at his disposal felt overloaded. The sight of her bent over before him in that damn costume, the feel of her inner muscles clenching and unclenching around his cock -almost as if she were continually climaxing - the sound of their bodies meeting with every powerful thrust, the smell of sex filling his nose…

All he was missing was the taste of her.

Her cries became a wordless scream of pleasure, and she tightened around him like a vice. She was obviously having a powerful orgasm and it would most likely have forced him to finish too if he hadn’t climaxed so recently. He kept his ruthless pace, rather impressed with his own stamina, and listened to Sansa scream herself hoarse. He slowed down for a little while, letting her recover her strength, but as soon as she started to moan, her inner walls fluttering around him, he sped up again.

“Oh, _God!_ Stannis please, I’m not sure I can take - oh, oh, _oh!_ ”

She was sobbing with pleasure, and alternately pleading for more and for mercy. Her body was hungry for him, however, and he kept going until she clenched around him particularly violently, taking him by surprise. He gasped, breathless and robbed of his voice as he came hard for the second time in less than an hour.

He slowed and finally stopped, feeling dazed and completely spent.

At length he pulled his softening cock out of her, and staggered around the sofa so that he could sit down.

Sansa remained slumped over the back, making small noises that were either moans or whimpers. He was not quite sure what to call them. He was relatively certain they were good noises, though.

He hoped.

It was strange that he was still in this dream. Usually when he dreamt of sex he woke up when he came. He had now continued to dream through two climaxes. Thankfully, these dreams no longer brought with them a mess to clean up, as they sometimes had when he was very young, so it did not much matter to him when he woke up.

Sansa made a slightly louder whimper-moan sound and managed to push herself to a standing position.

“I need to clean up,” she mumbled and started to make her way to the nearest washroom. She was moving like a newborn deer, unsteady and wobbly on her feet. Stannis knew he shouldn’t, but he smirked and felt rather pleased with himself.

Maybe he wouldn’t wake up from this oddly detailed dream until he went to sleep within the dream? That was fine, he supposed. If it weren’t completely indecent and improper, he might have considered just falling asleep on the couch. Anyway, naked as he was, it would only end with him waking up soon, cold and shivering. Or would it? If he was already dreaming, did it really matter?

In the end it was Sansa who made his mind up for him. She came to him, wearing one of his shirts, and told him she was going to bed. Stannis wanted to lie down next to her. Feeling hazy and vague, he cleaned himself up, found and donned his sleepwear and crawled under the covers with Sansa.

Almost as soon as his head found his pillow, he sank into a very deep, very peaceful slumber.

***

Stannis slept unusually late the next morning. He was generally up with the sun, running on his treadmill or around the neighbourhood, but today he felt unusually sluggish and tired. Almost as if he had been up half the night.

He hadn’t, had he? He’d had a very vivid dream about Sansa visiting him in a scandalous costume, though. The memory of the dream caused his morning wood to stir even further to life. He’d need to take care of that in the shower. It was definitely not going away on its own.

He turned from his back to his side, facing his night stand. Cracking his eyes open to glance at the clock, he saw that it was almost nine! He rarely ever slept this late! He was about to close his eyes again, groaning in disgust at his lack of discipline, when he caught something unusual out of the corner of one eye. He opened his eyes properly to see what it was, taking in the crumpled fabric, and the shiny metal.

It was unmistakably the costume Sansa had been wearing in his dream and _it was lying abandoned on his bedroom floor._

His heart started hammering in his chest, and cold sweat sprang out across his forehead.

Slowly, carefully, he turned to face the other side of his bed.

“Good morning,” Sansa yawned, looking sleepy but pleased to see him awake.

It hadn’t been a dream. He had actually done all of it. _To Sansa._ And he had enjoyed every damn second of it. _What must she think of him?_

“Good morning,” he heard himself say, his voice sounding far away and unreal. he felt a little bit like he had misjudged the number of steps he needed to take while walking up a staircase, and was now trying to climb up through empty air.

He had to say something. Apologise. Explain himself!

Why didn’t she look upset with him? She was only looking at him with vague, concerned puzzlement. 

“Stannis, are you feeling all right?” she asked, a hand coming up to stroke his neck.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t - I thought you were a dream - Please forgive me,” he said, words coming out in an agonised rush.

The very large part of him that was brutally honest was not impressed with his words. He had known that it hadn’t been a dream. Deep down, he had _known._ It had been a cowardly thing to do, to convince himself it was all pretend, that he could do what he wished without consequences. A way to let himself off the hook for acting out his depraved desires. A way to allow himself to enjoy the slave fantasy without feeling guilty.

He did not deserve her forgiveness. He shouldn’t even ask for it.

“Why are you apologising? Last night was _amazing._ ” Sansa drew out the last word, turning it into a sort of moan of pleasure. She moved herself closer to him and pressed the length of her body to his, making a delighted noise when she found him hard.

“I - I was inappropriate with you and - and not very romantic,” he said lamely, feeling a little stunned by her reaction, and distracted by how she was wriggling against his cock. _Was she completely insatiable?_

“Did you not hear me scream for more?” Sansa asked, amused and a little embarrassed.

His cock twitched at her words and the memory of the sounds they referenced. Seven hells! The sounds she had made! However, he definitely remembered her begging for mercy, too. An overwhelming wave of guilt washed over him at the thought that he may have ignored genuine cries for him to slow down.

Still, Sansa was smiling. Would she be smiling if he had gone too far?

“You really liked… ?” he trailed off, unable to finish the sentence in a way that did not sound hopelessly crude. _(... how I fucked you? How I made you my sex slave? How I bent you over the couch and rammed myself into you with complete abandon?)_

“ _Yes,_ ” Sansa said, sounding both very certain and rather sensual. Mostly because she was still writhing against him, but it was also something in her voice.

“I thought you wanted - you said you liked more romance.” Stannis was starting to have a difficult time focusing on the conversation.

“I do,” she kissed him briefly, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t also want you to occasionally take me like you’ll go mad with lust if you don’t have me right then and there,” she giggled and she said the words in a slightly affected voice that made him think she was making some kind of reference. If so, it was going over his head. The fact that she seemed absolutely sincere was making his heart beat uncomfortably fast, too.

_Sansa really wanted him to occasionally do what he had done last night? She liked it?_

“Do you think my romance novels only have slow, sweet love scenes?” she hinted, when he looked at her in confusion.

He hadn’t really considered it. Knowing that his daughter read these books made him want to avoid thinking about it at all cost.

“I should really lend you some of my books,” she said, sounding both amused and flirtatious, “not that you really need help coming up with interesting things to try…”

Not sure if she was teasing him or praising him, but suspecting a bit of both, he rolled himself on top of her, kissing her deeply to quiet her down. That done, he started to kiss a trail down her body, opening the shirt she had borrowed as he went.

If he recalled correctly, he had been missing the taste of her last night, and she would hardly be able to tease him if she was busy moaning his name.


	27. The rose garden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should warn for Petyr Baelish being a creep in this chapter. Nothing too serious or graphic happens, but if you have any triggers you may want to read at your own risk. (Petyr Baelish should have his own warning tag, tbh.)

Sansa was enjoying the early autumn sun as she finished her reading for an upcoming class on financial accounting. She had found a very pleasant spot on the grounds of the King’s Landing School of Economics, or KLSE as she and most of the students referred to it, and was feeling very happy and at peace with the world.

Her classes were going well and her teachers all seemed very intelligent and enthusiastic to pass their knowledge on. She was getting into a comfortable routine of studying, meeting Margaery at the gym, and calling her parents to let them know she was all right regularly. Sansa had joined the KLSE ballroom club and had gone to the first two events the club had arranged. She had even met her old childhood friend Jeyne Poole there, and they were reconnecting now that they were at school together. 

It was good to have a girlfriend who was a little bit more down to earth than Margaery was. If one spent too much time with Margaery, it was easy to forget that most people did not drive bottle green Jaguars before they even turned twenty.

Not that Sansa _minded_ getting rides with Margaery - especially on sunny days when they could take the top down and feel the breeze - but she thought it was a rather impractical mode of transportation. She’d always choose her little bug over the flashy Jag.

Margaery just scoffed at Sansa when she expressed her opinion, and said that she had obviously been spending too much time with Stannis.

“The Jag’s not supposed to be practical Sansa! It’s supposed to be _fun,_ ” Margaery would say and roll her eyes, “do I need to call Stannis and tell him to stop ruining your ability to have fun?”

Sansa would just shake her head at comments such as those. She and Stannis had plenty of fun, but telling Margaery about that would be all kinds of awkward and improper.

Sansa placed her thick book on the grass beside her and lay down, her hands pillowing her head. She breathed a happy sigh and watched the clouds for a little while, before closing her eyes contentedly.

The biggest reason for her happiness was definitely her relationship with Stannis. She always saw him at least a few times a week, and was staying over at his apartment whenever she could manage it. Their relationship had not changed much since the summer holiday. They still watched films, attempted to cook, tried to involve each other in running and yoga respectively, although they increasingly just spent time studying or working together in a comfortable silence, occasionally asking each other’s opinions or bouncing ideas off one another.

The one notable change since the summer was the sex. Sansa blushed a little to think of it. Ever since the night of the costume party Stannis had stopped treating her like she might break, or apologising for wanting to try something new. She felt more at ease with suggesting things too, knowing that he was open to all sorts of experiments. It just felt easier to talk about what they both wanted, now that they had broken the ice by doing something adventurous.

Not even the photographs, the gossip and the speculation that followed the costume party had been able to detract from Sansa’s happiness. 

It had been embarrassing when Robb and Jon had both called her within an hour of the photos leaking, mostly worried about what Joffrey had said to her - and panicking at the fact that she had worn _’that costume’_ in public - but it had not really upset her.

She had calmed them down by telling them that Joffrey hadn’t been able to do any harm, that Sandor Clegane had punched him, and that she had told her ex to get lost. She also told her brothers to mind their own business when it came to the way she chose to dress. They had grumbled about ‘little sisters’ and not wanting to see _that_ , but she had haughtily told them not to look at what they didn’t wish to see. It wasn’t her problem if they saw something they didn’t want to.

“Anyway, I wore that costume for _me_ , because it made me feel confident and sexy. I also maybe wore it a little bit for Stannis - did you know he actually really likes the films it’s from? - and _he_ definitely had no objections to me wearing it. I definitely did not wear it for _you._ So you can just mind your own business,” she had told Robb, making him splutter on the other end of the line.

“Gods, Sansa! Don’t tell me that! It was enough to see that you went to his apartment in the costume. I do not need any mental images.” Robb sounded vaguely disgusted, which might have offended Sansa if she hadn’t thought it was so funny.

“Serves you right for bringing it up,” Sansa had told him tartly.

Jon’s reaction had been much the same, although he had at least attempted to sound a bit supportive.

The photos in general circulation had showed her at the party, wearing her costume. They had also showed Joffrey talking to her, Joffrey lying on the floor with beer all down his front, and Joffrey being escorted from the building. She supposed some of the people at the party had either given or sold the pictures they had taken to the gossip bloggers, because she was certain that no paparazzi had been allowed inside.

It had definitely been paparazzi that captured the pictures of her going to Stannis’ place after the party, however, the braid in her hair and her boots making it clear that she was still in her costume under her coat.

Most of the blogs chewed delightedly on Joffrey’s humiliation, complimented Sansa’s sexy costume, and in a slightly creepy and voyeuristic way, they had speculated about what Stannis and Sansa had got up to that night, making a multitude of puns and crude jokes.

For the week after the ‘news’ broke, Sansa noticed that some of her fellow students would follow her with their eyes and whisper to each other when they saw her pass by, but she ignored it and eventually it stopped happening as much. She supposed people just got used to her being around, or perhaps the fact that she behaved just like any other student - never doing anything remotely interesting or exciting - made them lose interest.

It was good to have Jeyne around while the whispers were at their worst. Jeyne never treated Sansa any differently due to the gossip, although she occasionally asked what Stannis was really like, and whether he really scowled so much in real life. Coming from Jeyne, Sansa didn’t mind the questions. They were not mean-spirited.

Sansa’s thoughts were interrupted when she felt a sudden chill, as if a big cloud had passed in front of the sun.

“Hello sweetling, enjoying the sun?” 

Mr. Baelish had found her, then. Sansa repressed the urge to sigh. She had been successfully avoiding him for the past weeks with Jeyne’s help. It couldn’t be a coincidence that he was so often lurking nearby when Sansa’s classes let out. Jeyne usually checked if he was around and warned Sansa. Thankfully, Jeyne took Sansa’s reason of _’he gives me the creeps’_ at face value. Sansa did not really want to explain the story of her mother and Aunt Lysa to Jeyne, even though she trusted her well enough.

Sansa opened her eyes and rose into a seated position. “Hello Mr. Baelish. Yes, I was just finishing some reading. The weather is quite nice.” She made sure to be polite, but tried to sound disinterested.

“Could I interest you in a cup of coffee in my office?” Mr. Baelish held out a hand, offering his assistance when he saw that she was preparing to stand up. She took it reluctantly, out of politeness. He held on to her hand for much longer than necessary, but she managed to shake him off in order to retrieve her book and arrange her bag.

“That’s very kind of you, Mr. Baelish. I’m afraid I really should get going, though. I wouldn’t want to keep you from your important work,” Sansa declined as gracefully as she could, hoping he wouldn’t press her.

“It’s no trouble at all, my work can wait ten minutes.” Mr. Baelish grinned his shark’s grin and his eyes glittered in a way that made Sansa very uncomfortable. She knew she did not want to be alone with this man.

“I’m… flattered, but as I said, I really must be going.” Sansa had trouble getting the word ‘flattered’ out, but she did not think Mr. Baelish had noticed her lip curling slightly.

She started to walk towards her car and to her dismay Mr. Baelish followed her.

“I saw some very interesting pictures of you the other week,” Mr. Baelish said, a slightly salacious note to his tone. It made Sansa shudder a little. She did not want to think about Mr. Baelish ogling the photos of her in her skimpy costume. For the first time she felt a pang of regret over ever wearing it.

“Yes, I gather quite a lot of people did,” she answered pertly, hoping he would understand that she did not wish to discuss the pictures.

“Does it still bother you, all the interest in you and your relationship with Stannis? The last time we spoke I thought you might call things off with him.” Mr. Baelish was attempting to sound casual, but she could hear that he was very interested in her answer, and perhaps she was detecting a hint of - she wasn’t sure - frustration? Anger? 

Was he irritated that she hadn’t broken up with Stannis due to the things that he had told her at their last meeting?

Sansa could see her car and she quickened her pace.

“I guess I just got used to it,” she said, shrugging.

“I suppose you will be accompanying him to the Opera House this weekend?” Mr. Baelish was obviously fishing for information, but Sansa had no idea what he was referring to. Stannis hadn’t invited her anywhere recently, as they had both preferred to stay at home for the most part while the interest in them died down a little.

She reached her car and started to dig around for the keys in her bag. Mr. Baelish was standing uncomfortably close by, and expectantly waiting for her to answer him.

“I don’t know. Maybe?” Sansa answered honestly, wondering why Mr. Baelish was so interested.

With her keys in her hand, she turned to look at Mr. Baelish, hoping to bring the conversation to a swift end so that she could escape.

“If you were mine, I’d be sure to take you to the gala. Buy you a selection of expensive dresses and jewels, get you a stylist for that sublime hair, a make-up artist, manicure, pedicure… anything you wanted.” Mr. Baelish spoke in a smooth voice, his shark’s grin firmly in place. Sansa supposed he meant to be charming. The idea of being pampered and dressed up was not terrible on its own, but coming from him, it just seemed distasteful.

She giggled nervously, not really sure how to respond to him. “Um, that’s... nice. I really need to go, though,” she finally managed, feeling a little repetitive.

“Of course, don’t let me delay you, sweetling.” Mr. Baelish finally stepped away, lifting a hand to wave at her. She just gave him a forced little smile in return, hurrying inside her Beetle and driving away as quickly as she could.

***

Stannis was waiting for Sansa to arrive, feeling unusually impatient.

He had finally made all the arrangements for the surprise he had been planning, and he wanted her to get to the apartment so that he could show her.

He checked the closet for the third time as he waited, making sure everything was ready and presentable. The surprise in his jacket pocket would wait until Saturday night, but as long as he could show her part of the surprise right away, he thought he would be able to tolerate the wait until then.

He wondered if he was being stupid to make such a production of it. Maybe he should just give it to her and be done with it? He was generally not one to stand on ceremony, anyway. She knew that. Would she really want him to do… all this?

Just as before when he had asked himself this question, he came to the same conclusion. Sansa _would_ enjoy a little romance.

Surely he could stand to give the damn thing to her in a suitably romantic setting? It wouldn’t kill him.

There was a knock at the door. Just as he recognised Davos’ distinctive knock, he was starting to know Sansa’s. He rushed to open it for her.

He could immediately tell that all was not as it should be. Sansa was generally always so delighted when she arrived. Today there was a slight frown on her face and her brow was furrowed in worry.

“Sansa, is there something worrying you?” he asked, forgoing smalltalk.

“Nothing important. Just ran into Mr. Baelish at school and he was being a creep as usual.” Sansa shrugged, sinking down to sit on the nearest couch -- it was his favourite couch. He had very fond memories of that couch. Her words did not bring forth fond feelings, however.

“I still think you should consider switching schools. The University of King’s Landing offers a very decent business program.” Stannis had made this argument a few times before, usually when Sansa told him about Littlefinger lurking outside her classrooms. He really wished he could just strangle the man, or challenge him to a duel or something. (Stannis might or might not have been persuaded to read one of Sansa’s romance novels.)

“You know I love my teachers and the classes. I refuse to let some creepy old pervert ruin my education for me.” Sansa crossed her arms in front of her stubbornly.

He was proud of her and glad that she wasn’t being cowed by Littlefinger’s behaviour, but he still felt very protective at the same time, and longed to remove her from under the gaze of the ‘creepy old pervert’.

“You’re right, but I still wish you didn’t have to worry about him.” Stannis sat down next to her and put an arm around her shoulders. She pressed herself up to him as she always did, and he sighed contentedly, pleased to have her in his arms.

“I don’t worry about him. Not most of the time,” Sansa murmured.

“That’s good,” he said, squeezing her shoulder briefly.

They were silent for a while, each of them lost in their own thoughts.

Finally Stannis remembered that he had been anxiously awaiting Sansa so that he could surprise her. How should he do it? Show her what was in the closet and then ask her? Or ask her first and then show her what was in the closet?

Maybe it was best to ask her first, if she didn’t want to go, she wouldn’t feel pressured by the gift.

“Are you busy on Saturday?” he asked tentatively, aiming for a casual tone of voice. Wouldn’t it be a fine thing if she had already made plans because he had left it so late to ask her? He had just wanted everything to be ready before he asked, and the blasted shop had taken forever to deliver his purchase...

“I haven’t made any plans yet, why?” She sounded curious and interested.

Stannis was very relieved that she was free. She would most likely want to come if she hadn’t promised to be elsewhere, he thought.

“I was hoping you would join me at the opening gala at the Opera House. They always throw it at the start of the season, and my brothers and I generally try to attend.” Stannis spoke calmly, but he felt unaccountably nervous. What if she didn’t want to go?

They would be making a very public statement by going to such an event together. He hadn’t gone anywhere with a woman as his official date since he’d been married to Selyse, so it was an even more dramatic statement due to that.

“Of course I want to go!” She beamed at him, her blue eyes dancing and sparkling with happiness. Then she kissed him eagerly, and for a few moments Stannis forgot all about the gift in his closet, his only thoughts of how delicious she tasted, and how soft her lips were.

The kiss broke eventually and Sansa swatted his arm, scolding him playfully. “You should have given me more notice, Stannis! How am I supposed to find an appropriate dress in such a short amount of time?”

He was very pleased that she brought it up.

Stannis stood up from the couch, offering Sansa a hand up. She took it without hesitation, and followed him as he led her to his bedroom.

“Not that I mind, but isn’t it a bit early for that?” Sansa sounded amused and she was obviously under the impression that he was leading her to bed. _She didn’t mind?_ Perhaps the gift could wait…

No, he was too anxious to see her reaction. Maybe after?

“I have something for you,” he attempted to explain.

Sansa raised an eyebrow and glanced at his groin, a smile playing on her lips. “I’m sure you do,” she flirted easily.

Feeling a little flustered and aroused, he shook his head helplessly. “No, in the closet. A gift.” He gestured at the correct door.

Both of Sansa’s eyebrows went up this time, her smile widening. “A gift?” she repeated, sounding excited, “what sort of gift?”

“Open the door and look.” He nodded encouragingly.

Still smiling her dazzling smile, she swung the door open. Almost at once she gasped, turning around to look at him. “Oh, Stannis! It’s gorgeous!”

Stannis joined her in front of the open closet, looking at the dress he had ordered for her. He’d had a lot of help from Renly and Catelyn, but eventually he had managed to choose an elegant black evening gown in the right size. (Renly had pointed him towards the right designers, Catelyn had told him Sansa’s dress size.) It had some gold threaded details, but was otherwise very simple. Additionally it had very simple fastenings -- he had made sure of that.

Sansa threw her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately, breaking it only so that she could go back to admiring the dress.

“You like it, then?” he asked, feeling pleased and amused with her excited reaction.

“I _love_ it!” She made to kiss him again, but he stopped her, turning her around so that he could stand behind her and point out the other presents in the closet.

“Renly insisted you would at least need shoes and a - ah - clutch? Is it? - to go with it. I hope these will do.”

Sansa pressed herself against him distractingly and made ecstatic noises. “Yes, they’re perfect! I can’t wait to wear it all!” She turned around to kiss him, and this time he didn’t stop her.

“Can I try it on?” she asked, too excited to kiss him for very long. He didn’t mind, although his trousers were getting uncomfortably tight.

“Certainly, it’s yours to do with as you will.” Would she want him to leave while she tried it on? He hoped not.

“You’ll have to be my dress assistant again,” she told him flirtatiously, already divesting herself of her casual clothing. He watched her, never tiring of the sight of her porcelain skin being revealed, bit by bit.

In a trance, he went to fetch the dress of its hanger, unfastening it and helping her get it over her head, and her hands through the halters. The halters turned into a complicated sort of pattern at the back, so it was not quite as simple as it might otherwise have been, but he managed to get it on correctly his first try. He zipped her up, stroking her back as he did and leaning down to kiss the side of her neck.

“Mm, you are the best dress assistant,” Sansa said in a breathy voice. He felt the corners of his mouth twitch upwards in response.

Sansa walked over to the mirror to admire the way the dress clung to her every curve in the most enticing way possible, falling to the floor in a gentle sweep of soft, precious fabric. She turned to look at the back, craning her head over a shoulder.

“I love these details! My hair will definitely need to be in an updo.”

Stannis nodded absently, just drinking in the vision that she was. Would she really be going with him to a public event? In public? With him? As his date? _Officially?_

Sansa was looking at him expectantly and he realised that he must have missed a question.

“Pardon?” he said, feeling a little embarrassed to have been so absorbed in admiring her that he had forgot to listen.

“Can you help me out of it, please?” She smiled knowingly, but didn’t comment on his sudden hearing problem.

He hurried to help her with the zipper, carefully lifting the dress over her head the same way it had come on. As soon as it was safely back on the hanger, Sansa started to peel off her underwear. Stannis widened his eyes in surprise, feeling his blood heat up.

“I seem to have lost all of my clothes.” She walked up to him, batting her eyelashes playfully.

Stannis gave her a stern look. He knew this game. She took a step closer.

“You are a very irresponsible young lady, losing your clothes like that,” he scolded.

He could see that Sansa was repressing a giggle by the way her lips were pressed together and her eyes filled with laughter. She was also flushed with arousal, however, which he liked.

“I am. I’m _very_ irresponsible. Whatever will you do with me?” Sansa widened her eyes innocently, biting her lower lip and blinking up at him.

His erection was already unbearable.

“I expect I will have to teach you a lesson,” he said grimly, staring at her heatedly, his hands going to his belt buckle almost without his conscious will.

“Mm - I mean - oh, _no!_ ” Sansa play-acted, her fingertips touching her parted lips in exaggerated fright.

Once his trousers had been dealt with, he walked firmly towards Sansa, picked her up and carried her the short distance to the bed. She yelped and giggled, remembered herself, and moaned theatrically in despair instead.

He refused to let her up for the next few hours, only relenting when she complained of hunger.

***

Sansa’s heart was pounding with thrilled excitement. She and Stannis were riding in a limo with Renly and Loras, and they were just about to step out of it to walk up the magnificent steps of the King’s Landing Opera House, all decked out with a red carpet for the gala. Out the window she could already see a crowd of photographers aiming their flashes at the prima ballerina of the Westeros Ballet Company.

 _Would she actually get a chance to meet her?_ Sansa could hardly believe that she was really, genuinely invited to be here. She looked over at Stannis, giving him a bright smile.

“Are you ready?” she asked him, noticing that Renly was already opening the door.

Stannis just nodded, but she could tell that he was a little nervous. He hid it with his customary scowl, but she was starting to be able to read all of his different moods with ease. Margaery usually just shook her head and told Sansa that she was imagining things - “All his scowls look identical!” - but Sansa knew she was right. Margaery just didn’t pay attention.

Renly and Loras left the limo, and Stannis waited a few beats, letting the handsome couple advance a few steps before he stood up to help her out of the luxurious vehicle. She took his hand gratefully, needing every bit of support she could get while wrangling her long dress and her high heels, and with his help she managed to get to her feet gracefully enough.

As soon as they were both upright, her hand tucked into the crook of his elbow, there was an explosion of light as photographers scrambled over each other in order to get a good shot of them together. Sansa blinked a few times in surprise, but recovered quickly and fixed a dazzling smile on her face, doing her best to look at as many of the cameras pointed their way as she could. This was their official debut as a couple, even though they had been all over the gossip blogs since the summer, and Sansa wanted everyone to know how delighted she was to be on Stannis’ arm. She had a feeling she needed to look delighted enough for both of them. A glance at him confirmed her suspicion. Stannis was scowling and glaring at the photographers with ill-concealed irritation. Soon he had moved his hand to rest at her waist protectively, and a little possessively, guiding her forward and up the steps.

Thankfully a famous opera singer arrived minutes later, and the photographers rushed to capture his image, leaving them to follow Renly and Loras in peace.

Once they were inside, Stannis relaxed perceptibly, obviously relieved to be away from the photographers.

“That was so weird,” Sansa whispered to Stannis as they followed Renly and Loras blindly, hoping that they knew where they were supposed to go. Stannis just huffed out an annoyed breath, but she took it to mean that he was in agreement.

They soon reached a reception area where flutes of Champagne were handed out to everyone, and richly dressed people stood and mingled. Sansa was almost sure she was one of the youngest people present, and hoped that she looked all right. She had felt quite confident when she had stood in front of the mirror before she left the apartment, but glancing at some of the other women made her feel small and inadequate. They all seemed to be drenched in diamonds and done up like film stars!

Stannis whispered in her ear, almost as if he had read her mind. “They all look like hags next to you.”

Warmth spread through her at his words, the pleasant kind that made her feel like she was glowing. She smiled at him gratefully, and would have kissed him if she hadn’t been worried about smudging lipstick all over him.

“You can’t leave to make out yet, the evening is only starting.” Loras’ teasing voice carried over to them from a short distance away. He had managed to sneak up on them while they had been wrapped up in each other.

Sansa blushed. Loras was right, they should try to act appropriately. She took a deep breath and straightened her spine, pushing her shoulders back. She accepted the flute of Champagne Loras had walked over to give her and took a small sip. It was delicious.

Stannis offered her his arm again and Sansa took it with her free hand. He proceeded to actually _mingle,_ introducing her to everyone he knew by name. As it turned out, Stannis knew quite a lot of people by name.

Sansa almost forgot how to be polite when Stannis introduced her to a group of people that included the prima ballerina Sansa had seen on the steps. She wanted to squeal and tell the woman how much she admired her, and how she had loved her in her role as Giselle. She restrained herself to a polite, dignified greeting, but did allow herself to express her admiration in the most courteous way she could.

A lot of the men Stannis introduced her to complimented her profusely, and congratulated Stannis on having found himself such a beautiful, well-mannered young lady.

“You don’t want to know what they say when you can’t hear them,” Stannis muttered when they left such a group of men, wincing slightly. “If I could think of a way to make them stop, I would.”

Sansa imagined it was no worse than what she had read in some of the gossip blogs, so she just shrugged. “It’s not your fault they’re pigs.”

She spotted Robert coming into the reception area, and smiled at him when he caught her eye. He grabbed a flute of Champagne and headed their way.

“There you all are!” Robert boomed when he caught up to them. Renly and Loras returned the greeting cheerfully, but Stannis just scowled.

“Hello Robert,” Sansa greeted him sweetly, making up for Stannis’ silent glower.

“Has the host done the welcome speech yet?” Robert asked jovially, finishing the Champagne from his flute in two sips and looking around for a refill.

“Not yet,” Renly told him, “I expect he will soon, though.”

“Excellent! I love listening to him thank his ‘generous patrons’,” Robert chortled, grabbing a new glass of Champagne as a waitress passed by with a tray. He carelessly pushed his empty glass into Stannis’ hands. Stannis accepted the flute with a put-upon expression, clenching his jaw tightly. Sansa rolled her eyes at Robert when he wasn’t looking, which seemed to cheer Stannis up slightly.

Renly was right, the event’s host began to speak before Stannis even had a chance to get rid of Robert’s empty Champagne flute.

The host bid them welcome and did indeed spend a few minutes thanking the Baratheon brothers and a few other noted names for being such generous patrons of the arts. Without their diligent support the Opera House would surely be in a much sorrier state etc. etc.

Robert elbowed Stannis in the ribs when their name was mentioned, and Stannis glared at his older brother. Sansa was reminded of herself and Arya when they were younger.

Apparently the program of the gala would follow the form of a cocktail party. Hors d'oeuvres would be served throughout the evening, and the Champagne would continue to flow. Those interested in different drinks might order at the bar. Musical acts and dance numbers would entertain them, and eventually there would be dancing. Guests were encouraged to make use of small tables and clusters of sofas around the room should they tire of standing. The guests would also have access to the rose gardens, and were told that they looked particularly fine this evening.

Sansa - who had not lacked excitement before - perked up even further at this. She had not realised there would be entertainment _and_ a chance to walk around the renowned Opera House rose gardens.

Their host finished speaking and there was a smattering of applause.

“Sansa, why don’t I show you the gardens while we wait for the first singer to get ready?” Loras offered, extending his arm courteously. He gave her a meaningful look, and Sansa understood that Loras wanted to give the Baratheon brothers a little time to _talk._ Stannis looked like he had a lot to say to Robert, and Renly had the woebegone look of someone who would shortly be forced to mediate.

“That sounds lovely,” Sansa agreed with a sweet smile. She shot Stannis a slightly concerned glance, trying to communicate to him that he should try to ignore his brother’s rudeness, and not let it get to him, but she was afraid that Stannis barely noticed her looking at him. 

He must be _very_ annoyed, then.

***

Stannis was _very_ annoyed.

He nodded distractedly at Loras and Sansa when they left the group, off to look at roses. He would have liked to escort Sansa around the rose gardens himself, but perhaps she would enjoy the walk more with an expert on her arm. The Tyrell family wealth was built on agriculture, and they were famous growers of flowers -- almost as known for their roses as Holland was for tulips.

“Robert, I will not tolerate any of your ridiculous behaviour tonight. Is that clear?” Stannis bit out, speaking in a low voice so that only his brothers could hear.

“What do you mean?” Robert raised his eyebrows innocently.

Stannis closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing.

“Just try not to bother Stannis tonight, Robert,” Renly said soothingly, “he wants to impress Sansa.”

“Well, of course!” Robert laughed his booming great laugh and slapped Stannis on the back, “I still can’t believe you’ve managed to hold on to that one. She’s much too good for you,” he chortled.

Stannis scowled at his brother, but did not disagree. It was true, Sansa _was_ far too good for him. Robert didn’t have to point it out, though. Stannis ground his teeth in irritation.

Robert sidled up to his ear, and whispered in an undertone that not even Renly could have caught. “Bent her over a table, yet?”

Stannis flinched and felt himself redden at the question. He hadn’t been prepared for it. Robert had been behaving himself when it came to prying about personal matters for the past months, ever since he had found out that Stannis and Sansa were in love. Of course the peace would have been too good to last.

“Oho!” Robert exclaimed, correctly interpreting Stannis’ embarrassed reaction, “showed her a good time, eh? Did the Baratheon name proud? Hah!” Robert was speaking uncomfortably loudly now, and Stannis wanted to clamp a hand over that loud mouth and make him _stop._

“Shut _up,_ Robert,” he hissed through gritted teeth. Why must his brother be so tactless?

“Yes, leave Stannis be, Robert.” Renly rolled his eyes and sounded completely exasperated. Stannis would have shot Renly a grateful look, but he was annoyed with Renly too. He was _barely_ helping. He should be leading Robert away, distracting him by introducing him to some woman in a low-cut dress.

“Well, you’re both very boring tonight,” Robert huffed, obviously feeling unappreciated.

“ _You’re_ being an offensive, tactless _brute,_ ” Stannis said heatedly, but in a low voice, so no other people would hear, crossing his arms and glaring.

“He’s very touchy,” Robert explained to Renly, nodding at Stannis.

“Come on Robert. Don’t be a pain. I’ll take you to the bar.” Renly jerked his head towards the tempting shelves of gleaming liqueur bottles, already walking over there.

Robert gave Stannis two thumbs up and a lewd smile, turning on his heel to follow Renly.

Stannis had barely had any time to relax, take a deep breath and collect himself when he heard a voice that caused him to tense up all over again.

“My, my. Having trouble with Robert?” It was Cersei Lannister’s unmistakable honeyed lilt. Stannis ground his teeth and looked around discreetly for a convenient escape route. However, the first entertainer of the evening was preparing to sing, so the crowd was going still and quiet. He was stuck next to Cersei for the next few minutes.

“Not at all.” Stannis glared at Cersei, hoping she would feel intimidated and leave.

No such luck.

“Don’t lie, it doesn’t suit you,” Cersei snorted, sipping her Champagne delicately.

“What do you want?” Stannis demanded bluntly, not in the mood for Cersei’s games.

“You know I was just talking to poor Selyse,” Cersei began, giving him a vindictive look. Stannis felt his stomach clenching, and he thought ominous music ought to be playing. Instead, a talented opera singer was belting out a beautiful aria. The mood dissonance grated on his nerves.

“She told me that darling Melisandre had been trying to help her spend more time with her daughter, and that you had _fired_ her for it. She said you made some rather ugly threats.” Cersei’s eyes glittered maliciously.

Stannis wanted to gape at Cersei. _He_ had made ugly threats? Melisandre and Cersei had been plotting to indicate that he was a _pedophile_. Melisandre had a slightly comprehensible reason - a large payoff - but Cersei? Cersei had wanted to ruin him out of _spite._ Stannis felt his blood boiling, and he was sure he was probably turning purple with rage.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to pull Cersei, but it’s _over._ Do you understand? I have evidence that could compromise Joffrey’s future considerably, as you well know, _and_ a recording that proves you were involved in a plot to try to criminally coerce me,” Stannis spoke through clenched teeth, trying to make sure his voice did not carry to the nearest bystanders.

Cersei appeared taken aback at the mention of the recording, her eyes widening for a fraction of a second. Then she narrowed them, glaring at him malevolently.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She sounded as if she were trying to come off as supremely unconcerned, but he had seen her moment of surprised indignance. She could not fool him. He smirked at her, knowing that he had the upper hand.

A stroke of inspiration later he decided to take a risk. Robert had never told him who the father of Cersei’s children might be, but Stannis thought that Robert must at least _suspect_ who it was.

“Of course you don’t. Just make sure to keep your mouth shut, and your schemes away from me and Sansa. Otherwise I might accidentally forget that the press doesn’t need to know who fathered your children,” Stannis bluffed, keeping his face absolutely expressionless. For all Cersei knew, he knew exactly who the father was. Robert might very well have told him.

Cersei blanched but was recovering remarkably well otherwise. She was sneering at him, her features not remotely beautiful anymore, and her eyes were glittering with the disturbing light of a loser who knows they are already taking their petty revenge. Stannis felt as if ice water was being poured down his back. What did she know that he did not?

“I wonder… where is your little girlfriend now? Wasn’t she out in the gardens with him?” Cersei said innocently, nodding at Loras who was at that very moment standing at the bar with Robert and Renly, applauding the singer who was bowing gracefully.

Stannis looked around in alarm. Where _was_ Sansa?

“Perhaps she’s still in the garden?” Cersei suggested, pretending to be helpful, “you know, I think I saw Petyr Baelish heading that way. I’m sure she’s just… _catching up_ with her chancellor.” Her lips widened into a venomous smile.

At that moment, Stannis realised that Cersei’s only purpose in speaking to him was to delay him in searching for Sansa. Possibly she was conspiring with Littlefinger, possibly she had just noticed an opportunity and taken it, but she obviously knew that Baelish was up to no good. He scowled at her and hurried away without so much as a by-your-leave, glad that people were talking and mingling again so that his movements would not attract undue attention.

Had he looked back at Cersei, he would have seen her give him a jaunty wave, her face alive with pleasure at her petty victory.

***

Sansa and Loras had a very enjoyable walk in the rose garden. He explained all about the different types of roses, and pointed out to her which type was his favourite, and then Renly’s favourite and Margaery’s favourite. (Margaery had several favourites.)

Sansa told him which kind of rose she preferred, and Loras complimented her on her good taste.

“Amalia reds have the most wonderful scent, though they need to be babied. Very delicate and susceptible to disease, but so gorgeous,” Loras explained, deftly pulling a rose from a cluster and presenting it to Sansa with a gentlemanly flair. She smiled at him and accepted the bloom.

“Delicate, gorgeous and sweetly scented -- that sounds familiar.” A voice she had come to dislike intensely interrupted her pleasant moment with Loras.

“Hello Mr. Baelish,” Sansa said politely, steeling herself for whatever the man would come up with next.

“It’s Petyr, sweetling, Petyr.” Mr. Baelish turned to address Loras. “Why don’t I escort Sansa back? The first singer is just about to perform, I’m sure you want to hurry back to hear?” His shark’s grin was white and blinding.

Loras glanced at Sansa’s shoes. He knew she would not be able to hurry back, and he was obviously interested in hearing the singer. Sansa wanted to beg him not to leave her, but she didn’t want to be a nuisance, and she was fairly sure Mr. Baelish wouldn’t _do_ anything to her. He might say some uncomfortable things, but she had handled that before well enough.

“It’s fine, Loras. I’ll see you inside in a few minutes.” She gave him a weak smile, attempting to look encouraging.

“You sure?” he hesitated, looking at Mr. Baelish and then at her. She nodded quickly, before she changed her mind. “See you inside, then!” He set off at a brisk walk.

“Alone at last,” Mr. Baelish said with a smirk, and there was something about his tone that unsettled Sansa deeply. She glanced around and noticed that Mr. Baelish was right. Now that Loras had left, they were quite alone in the garden. Everyone was inside, watching the opera singer.

Her stomach tied itself up into knots and she felt her heart start beating faster. She tried to take a deep breath, telling herself there was no reason to panic, but looking at Mr. Baelish did not support that line of reasoning. He was looking at her like the cat who had caught the canary at last, his eyes dark with lust.

It was a look she had come to enjoy very much when Stannis directed it at her, but from Mr. Baelish it seemed threatening and ominous. Just like it had been distasteful when Mr. Baelish had talked of buying her dresses, but a delightful surprise when Stannis had actually given her one. These men were so different, and their roles in her life were so different. Why did Mr. Baelish not understand that his advances weren’t welcome?

Sansa thought back to their past interactions, and realised with a growing sense of horror that she had never really _discouraged_ him outright. She had always been so worried about being polite, about not offending her future chancellor… And of course, she had deliberately mislead him when she had been fishing for information about Balon Greyjoy’s business venture.

Maybe if she just told him clearly that she was not interested, he would leave her alone? It had worked at the costume party, she recalled. Just saying no, clearly and confidently, had usually been enough to make the boys give up on her. She had to try.

“Mr. Baelish, I’m afraid I might not have made myself clear to you,” Sansa began when Mr. Baelish took a step towards her. He stopped, seemingly willing to listen. This emboldened her, and she continued. “I appreciate your kindness towards me, but I am not interested in anyone other than Stannis. Perhaps I am misreading your intentions, and if so I apologise, but I do not wish for any sort of relationship with you beyond the relationship of chancellor and student,” Sansa finished, her heart beating powerfully fast, her mouth feeling dry, and her palms clammy. She fiddled with her clutch, hoping Mr. Baelish wouldn’t notice her nervous fumbling.

“Well, that’s a shame,” Mr. Baelish said, stepping even nearer. Sansa wanted to shrink back, but she had a feeling that retreating would be of no use. She swallowed and tried to meet his gaze steadily.

“What if I told you that as chancellor, I could have you expelled for insubordination?” A dark shadow had passed over his face, a cruel look in his eyes.

Sansa stared at him in shock. What did he mean? Did he want to expel her for not being interested in him?

“You wouldn’t want such a dark spot on your academic record, now would you?” Mr. Baelish raised an eyebrow.

Sansa shook her head, feeling herself go paler and paler. “No, sir.”

She could not believe this was happening. Why had she let Loras leave? Why was Mr. Baelish behaving this way? How should she get herself out of this situation?

“Come with me, then,” Mr. Baelish ordered coldly.

“Where?” Sansa asked tremulously.

“Just a little ways over there.” Mr. Baelish gestured to a dark alcove. Sansa bit her lip and nodded, trying to buy herself some time. There had to be something she could say to talk sense into him, surely?

Mr. Baelish placed a hand at the small of her back, guiding her to the dark little corner of the garden. Again she was struck by how different a gesture could feel, coming from Mr. Baelish rather than Stannis. So pleasant and comforting when it was Stannis, so threatening and awful when it was Mr. Baelish.

Once they had arrived in the secluded spot, Mr. Baelish used his body to trap her against the brick wall, one hand flat against the wall on either side of her.

“Please, Mr. Baelish. I don’t want any trouble. If you could just leave me in peace I won’t tell anyone about this. I swear,” Sansa hurriedly said, feeling panicked and trapped.

The faint sound of applause reached her ears, and she vaguely registered that the singer Loras left to listen to must have finished. She hadn’t heard the song. She wondered if it had been pretty.

“Of course you won’t tell anyone,” Mr. Baelish crooned, leaning in to kiss her.

She turned her face at the last moment, and Mr. Baelish met her cheek instead of her lips. He growled in annoyance and let go of the wall with one hand in order to grasp her chin painfully, turning her face towards him. Sansa let out an involuntary sound of discomfort at the rough touch, and squeezed her eyes shut, feeling tears gathering and not wanting him to see her cry.

She had no warning because she wasn’t looking, so she felt startled when he was suddenly mashing his face against hers, holding her firmly in place, his tongue already trying to push between her lips. She tried to keep her mouth firmly shut, but he squeezed her jaw painfully, and she parted her lips to gasp out another pained sound. He used the opportunity, sticking his tongue down her throat aggressively. Sansa felt ill at the invasive sensation of his tongue pushing inside her mouth, and she could feel tears leaking from her eyes despite her best efforts.

She wished she was like Ygritte and that she could just knee him in the groin and be done with it, but she just _couldn’t_. She felt frozen in place, terrified and completely lost. When she thought she might actually be sick at the awful situation she was in, Mr. Baelish stepped back. She opened her eyes in confusion, grateful for the reprieve but surprised at it too.

Stannis was holding Mr. Baelish by his jacket lapels, almost lifting Mr. Baelish from the ground. He was red with anger, veins popping out on his forehead and his neck, his eyes stormy and his mouth twisted into a snarl that showed his gritted teeth. In short, he looked _apoplectic_ with rage. Had she been Mr. Baelish in that moment, faced with an incensed Stannis, she would have been entirely frightened, not looking _gloating._ She wondered what Littlefinger was thinking to put that expression on his face.

“I’ll have you fired for this,” Stannis promised, his voice cold as ice, his eyes burning with fury.

Mr. Baelish pushed Stannis off with a derisive look on his face. “I haven’t done anything that warrants losing my position.” Mr. Baelish looked pleased that Stannis had caught him. _Pleased_ that Stannis had seen him kissing her. Sansa couldn’t believe it. What was _wrong_ with him?

“She is obviously unwilling. You were abusing the power of your station as chancellor,” Stannis said angrily, gesturing at her tear-stained face.

“Prove it,” Mr. Baelish said, a malicious glint in his eyes.

Sansa fumbled with her clutch again, knowing a cue when she heard it. The recording she had started several minutes ago began to play back from her phone.

_Well, that’s a shame._

_What if I told you that as chancellor, I could have you expelled for insubordination?_

_You wouldn’t want such a dark spot on your academic record, now would you?_

_No, sir._

_Come with me, then._

_Where?_

_Just a little ways over there._

_Please, Mr. Baelish. I don’t want any trouble. If you could just leave me in peace I won’t tell anyone about this. I swear._

_Of course you won’t tell anyone._

Sansa stopped the recording just as the noise of her pained little gasps and his forceful kissing started, not really wanting to listen to the noise of Mr. Baelish sticking his tongue down her throat again.

Mr. Baelish had gone pale, and Stannis was equal parts horrified, furious and deeply impressed. She could see that he was trying to contain his anger in favour of looking at her like she was the most brilliant woman on the planet, and it made her heart swell with pride to see it. His expression alone almost made up for the horror of the past minutes.

Stannis was the first to recover the ability to talk after Sansa’s bombshell of a recording.

“Well, I think that should serve as sufficient proof, don’t you?” Stannis raised an eyebrow at Mr. Baelish, who was now looking considerably less cocky. In fact, he looked downright _worried_. Sansa was glad to see it, and glad that her blind, panicked prods at her phone had managed to start a usable recording.

“There’s no need to overreact...” Mr. Baelish started to say, obviously attempting to talk his way out of the impossible situation he had suddenly found himself in.

“If you resign from your post no later than tomorrow, I will refrain from _’overreacting’_ and taking this recording to the authorities. How’s that?” Stannis crossed his arms, looming over the shorter man, looking confrontational and threatening. The veins on his neck were still standing out alarmingly.

Mr. Baelish twisted his face into a very sour expression, but she could see the cogs turning in his head. Surely resigning on his own terms would be better than going to court to fight charges of coercion and attempted rape?

Sansa wanted to believe that Mr. Baelish would have stopped at kissing, but she had a very heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach that convinced her that she had been lucky that Stannis had come looking for her as soon as he had.

“Fine,” Mr. Baelish spat, looking bitter and furious, “I’ll resign.” He turned and stalked off, leaving Stannis and Sansa alone.

They stood in silence, listening for Littlefinger’s footfalls to fade away completely. When Sansa was sure he was gone, she let the dry sob she had been holding back escape.

Stannis was at her side at once, holding her to him and stroking her back comfortingly. She pressed herself as close as she could, shaking with emotion. She refused to cry, however. She had already spilt more tears than Mr. Baelish was worth tonight. He was definitely not worth ruining her make-up. She thought it might still be salvageable, but if she started blubbering it would leave her a complete mess!

Thinking such mundane thoughts helped calm her down, and she was soon able to take deep steadying breaths and stop herself shaking.

“Thank you,” she said when she was feeling calmer, “I’m not sure what I would have done if you hadn’t arrived just then.” She hoped she would have been able to overcome her fear and fight him off, but even with sharp stilettos as weapons, she was not sure she was a match for a fully grown man.

Stannis was giving her an anguished, frightened look and it scared her to see him look so upset. He was always so cool and collected -- unless they were in the bedroom, of course.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that Sansa,” he held her even tighter, “I encourage you to take that recording to the authorities. He should not get away with what he did.”

Sansa broke away from his embrace in surprise. “But you said you wouldn’t give the recording to the police if he resigned.” She searched his face, feeling baffled that he would lie to Littlefinger. Stannis never lied.

“It seemed the quickest way to remove him from his position as chancellor,” Stannis explained seriously, “he should have realised that it is obviously not my place to make the decision of whether to take the recording to the authorities or not. Believing me to be in charge of your actions is his mistake, not mine.”

Sansa had never loved Stannis more than she did in that moment. She desperately wanted to kiss him, but it felt obscene to do so before she had a chance to wash the taste of Mr. Baelish from her mouth. Possibly she would need drain cleaner.

“Thank you,” she said again, simply and sincerely.

He embraced her again and she filled her nose with his comforting scent and revelled in the safety she felt in his arms. A few long moments passed, and Sansa thought about how perfect it would have felt to stand with Stannis in such a way, surrounded by beautiful roses, if it hadn’t been for Mr. Baelish and his awful behaviour.

“Do you want to go home?” Stannis asked her seriously.

Sansa considered the question. It would be nice to get away and feel safe and protected away from all the people at the gala. However, she had been looking forward to this evening, and she was sure it would definitely draw attention if they left early.

She shook her head no.

“Why don’t we get you back inside, then? You can consider what to do with that ingenious recording some other time,” Stannis said at length, his hands going up to squeeze her shoulders. Sansa glowed at the praise implied by his choice of words, and nodded at him, giving him a faint smile.

Stannis held her much closer than he usually did as they walked back into the reception area, his hand firmly around her waist. She was thankful for it as she was drawing strength from his touch. No one really paid them any notice when they joined the crowd, most people entranced by the pair of ballet dancers who were exhibiting their skill at the other end of the vast room.

Sansa asked Stannis to help her find the ladies’ room as she wanted to survey the damage to her mascara and her lipstick. He did so, and promised to wait outside until she returned. Usually she might have thought he was being overprotective, but she thought it might make him feel better to stand guard over her, so she didn’t object. To be perfectly honest, she was still feeling shaken so she appreciated being a little overprotected.

As she used a moist towelette to dab at the lipstick smudges around her mouth, she heard a stall open behind her.

“Why, if it isn’t the little dove.”


	28. A surprise

Cersei’s sardonic voice reached Sansa, making her freeze up. “Did you have a nice walk in the garden?” The beautiful woman went to the sink next to her and started washing her hands. Cersei raised an eyebrow at the smudged lipstick and a black trail under one of Sansa’s eyes where her mascara had run.

“Hello Cersei,” Sansa said quietly. Would she not be allowed a single quiet moment to herself tonight? “The roses were quite nice, but I did not much care for the company I ended up keeping,” she told the woman coolly, hoping the vague explanation would suffice and that Cersei would leave.

“Oh, was Stannis not around to show other men what a _successful_ relationship you two are in?” Cersei asked with a sneer.

Sansa stared at the woman. Did Cersei know about what had just happened? She seemed amused with Sansa’s look of shock, smiling widely as she dried her hands.

“Do you suppose _dear_ Stannis will like you as well now that you’ve been tampered with?” Cersei gloated, taking out a tube of ruby red lipstick and applying some to her already flawless lips.

_Tampered with?_ Sansa was starting to get really angry.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to say, but Stannis and I are perfectly happy,” Sansa said, almost shaking with the effort of keeping her voice calm and cool.

Cersei looked sceptical. “The Stannis I know would never be happy to share.”

“He will never have to share,” Sansa snapped, her patience running out.

Cersei looked pointedly at Sansa’s smudged face. “It looks to me like he’s already had to.” Her voice was dripping in cruel amusement.

“Looks can be deceiving.” Sansa narrowed her eyes and crossed her hands in front of her angrily. She understood now that Cersei had somehow known that Mr. Baelish would try to attempt to _’tamper’_ with her, and was assuming that he had been successful.

Cersei’s eyes narrowed too, but she was looking suspicious and a little less sure of herself. Sansa could tell that Cersei was taking in more of her appearance, not just focusing on her slightly messed up face. Cersei eyes went to Sansa’s perfect updo - not a hair out of place - down to Sansa’s dress - still whole and clean - and finally to her pale, exposed arms - untouched and free of blemishes.

Sansa could tell that Cersei was figuring out that Mr. Baelish had not managed to do any lasting damage, and felt a little thrill of victory when Cersei rolled her eyes in irritation and let out an annoyed huff.

“Apparently so,” Cersei said bitterly, turning to leave. Sansa hoped the woman would trip over Stannis outside the door. Maybe she would fall on her stupid face!

Sansa blew out an angry breath, closing her eyes and trying to calm herself down -- yet again.

Putting her hurt and her anger at Cersei aside was difficult, but dwelling on it would serve no purpose. Sansa decided to focus on fixing her face and gulping down some water from the tap to try to wash the taste of Mr. Baelish from her mouth instead of considering how callous a person had to be to act the way Cersei had. It worked well enough to distract her, and when she left the restroom she felt almost normal, although she very much hoped she would not have to deal with any more difficult confrontations tonight. She was not sure she could take much more.

Stannis looked anxious, although he was clearly relieved to see her returning unharmed from the ladies’ room.

“Did Cersei say anything to you?” he asked worriedly, a hand going to her waist again, his body close to hers as they walked.

“Don’t worry about it, I can deal with her catty comments,” Sansa told him reassuringly. 

“What did she say?” Stannis asked, brow furrowed.

“Nothing worth repeating. I think she knew that Mr. Baelish was going to try something with me. I wish she had warned me instead of just letting it happen. I don’t like her, but I would never have stood back if I thought someone was going to hurt her,” Sansa said thoughtfully, feeling rather sad for Cersei. She wondered what had happened to her to make her so spiteful.

“That’s because you are uncommonly kind,” Stannis said hoarsely, stopping so that he could kiss her forehead gently and look into her eyes. She could see how proud he was of her, and thought she could see something like amazement too, though she wasn’t sure. She looked back at him with all the love she could muster, so infinitely glad that he was with her, feeling warm all the way through and down to her toes because of his words and his affectionate gestures.

“There you two are! We’ve been looking all over for you! You missed the first three entertainers!” Renly exclaimed, ending the tender moment.

Sansa turned to smile at Renly and Loras, reminding herself that Loras was not to blame for what had happened. He couldn’t have known what abandoning Sansa would lead to. Stannis did not seem inclined to be so forgiving.

“I want a word with you,” Stannis said coldly, clamping a hand around Loras’ upper arm and dragging him a few steps to the side, so that he could hiss something in his ear without Renly and Sansa overhearing. Sansa wanted to stop him, but thought this might be another thing that might make Stannis feel better, so she held her tongue. Instead she asked Renly to describe the singing and the dancing she had missed. Renly was looking worriedly at Loras and Stannis, obviously on the verge of intervening as Loras was going very pale, but Sansa’s question distracted him, and he started to explain which aria the first opera singer had performed.

Renly was in the middle of praising the singer when Stannis and Loras rejoined the conversation.

“I’m so sorry, Sansa. I didn’t realise I shouldn’t have left you alone with that Baelish person. I’ll get you a drink if you like? A cocktail? Have you ever tried a Manhattan? It comes with a cherry!” Loras babbled, shooting frightened looks at Stannis after every other word.

“Um, thank you. I think I’d actually quite like that,” Sansa answered, realising as the words came out that a strong cocktail might be exactly what she needed. It would work much better than tap water to remove the bad taste from her mouth. “Just one,” she added, looking at Stannis hesitantly. She knew he did not approve of excessive alcohol consumption. He did not look disapproving or stern at all, however. Perhaps he also thought the circumstances warranted a cocktail.

The evening took a sharp turn for the better after that. 

Sansa saw Robert of all people drag Cersei off, looking quite furious with her. When Robert returned Cersei was nowhere to be seen, and Sansa did not see her again for the rest of the evening. Mr. Baelish was gone too. 

Sansa sipped her - quite delicious - cocktail and enjoyed being the complete focus of Stannis’ attention. He continued being uncharacteristically affectionate and attentive, seemingly unconcerned with the raised eyebrows his behaviour was garnering from those who knew him.

Stannis even danced with her once the dance floor was opened, just as carefully as last time, making sure to lead her no faster than her shoes would allow. Many others requested a dance with her, but she declined most offers, preferring to dance with Stannis or not at all. She made an exception for Robert, because she was keen to ask him why he had got rid of Cersei. She also wanted to thank him.

“I hope this is not an impertinent question, but how did you get rid of Cersei?” Sansa asked him when she was sure they were out of earshot of anyone important.

Robert looked a little flustered for a moment, but his dancing did not suffer for it. “Noticed that, did you?” he sighed. Sansa nodded, watching him curiously.

“I noticed a few things too tonight. Loras and Renly filled me in on the rest. I know Cersei has been giving you and Stannis a hard time…” Robert sighed again, looking far from his usual jolly self, “I should have said something to her sooner.”

Sansa bit her lip and wondered if Robert meant that he also knew about Mr. Baelish. She wasn’t sure if she really wanted so many people to know. She hadn’t been able to stop Stannis before he told Loras, and she hadn’t thought to ask Loras to keep it to himself either!

“It’s fine, Stannis and I had everything under control. You shouldn’t worry yourself for our sake,” Sansa said quietly.

“What sort of big brother would I be then?” Robert’s lips quirked in a way that reminded Sansa unexpectedly of Stannis. She smiled at Robert, feeling a rush of gratitude towards him.

“Well, however you got rid of her, _thank you._ ” Sansa had to keep from hugging the older man, mindful that hugging was not really a recognised part of the dance. She really didn’t need more attention tonight. She made do with squeezing his hand and beaming at him.

“I know some of Cersei’s secrets. I doubt she’ll be bothering you much more from now on.” Robert looked pleased and a little embarrassed at Sansa’s gratitude.

He spent the rest of the dance embarrassing her with increasingly wild and outlandish compliments, until she was almost sore in the face from laughing and smiling.

Since she had danced with Robert, she was obliged to dance with Renly and Loras too. They were incredibly pleasant dance partners, even though Loras still looked apologetic and kept shooting Stannis nervous looks while he twirled her around the floor. 

After her dance with Loras, Oberyn Martell sort of blindsided her with his good looks and his accent, and she ended up dancing with him too. She thought it would most likely be fine, since she knew she could trust him to be a complete gentleman. They had danced together before, after all.

“I feel like I should have the hiccoughs,” Mr. Martell said in his sexy accent as they danced, glancing at Stannis pointedly. Sansa saw that Stannis was scowling at Mr. Martell and looking very much like he wanted to pick him up by his jacket lapels too. Sansa felt a pang of remorse at having accepted the dance. Usually she might have thought it was a little fun to see Stannis jealous like that, but it didn’t really feel like fun now.

“He’s feeling very protective tonight. I ran into a spot of bother with an overly friendly man in the gardens earlier,” Sansa explained, trying to keep her tone light. _What happened to her idea of trying to keep the events in the garden from spreading to more people?_

“Bastardo! Point him out to me, I will give him a piece of my mind, eh?” Mr. Martell seemed incensed on her behalf. His anger made his accent even thicker.

“I appreciate the sentiment, but the man in question has already left,” Sansa explained, feeling rather flattered at Mr. Martell’s reaction.

He calmed down at her words. “Ah, well. Maybe I should return you to your lover, then?” he suggested, glancing at Stannis again.

Sansa giggled at hearing Stannis unjokingly referred to as her _’lover’_ , but nodded her agreement.

As soon as Mr. Martell had relinquished his hold on Sansa in order to bow at her and take his leave, Stannis had wrapped an arm around her waist possessively, glaring at the retreating man.

“Stannis, you’re being primitive,” Sansa whispered in a tone that suggested she did not mind in the least. Though she wouldn’t want him to behave like this all the time, she was still rather enjoying his protectiveness.

“I don’t like Oberyn Martell,” Stannis grumbled, still scowling.

“Why not? He seems perfectly nice to me.” Sansa was curious why Stannis might dislike Mr. Martell. Had she been deceived by the sexy accent? Was he perhaps a cruel, unjust man?

Stannis reddened slightly, and Sansa thought it was due to embarrassment rather than anger. Apparently Stannis was not entirely proud of the reason behind his dislike of Mr. Martell.

“I just don’t,” Stannis said peevishly.

Sansa knew when it was prudent to change the subject, so she started asking Stannis about some of the other people he had introduced her to earlier. Stannis looked relieved and started explaining who owned what, and how they had all made their fortunes.

It was getting quite late, and Sansa was feeling almost as if the horrible events of the early evening had simply been a bad dream, when Stannis led her to a secluded cluster of couches, surrounded by beautiful paintings depicting attractive people in complicated old-fashioned gowns and colourful clothing.

She was glad to sit down and take the weight off her aching feet, and let out a sigh of pleasure.

“This was a great idea, my feet were getting so tired.” Sansa smiled at Stannis, noticing that he was looking anxious.

“Oh? Yes. All right,” he said distractedly, his hand searching through his inside jacket pocket for something.

He pulled out a flat, black box. It looked similar to the type of box one might put jewellery in, but not quite. Sansa felt intensely curious about what it might contain, and looked expectantly at Stannis.

“I wanted to give you something,” he began a little awkwardly, “and I wanted to try to make it romantic, but maybe - I don’t know - with everything that’s happened…” he trailed off, looking a little flustered and irritated.

Sansa wanted to say something encouraging, but settled for smiling and kissing his cheek. This seemed to do the trick as it got Stannis to meet her eyes and take a deep breath.

“I know it’s a little early, and you don’t have to change anything about our current arrangement if you don’t want to, but I thought it might be - ah - _good_ if you had your own key to my apartment.” Stannis opened the box he had been holding, revealing a key on an expensive-looking key chain. It was a miniature stag, finely wrought from precious-looking metal. Sansa noticed that it was very detailed -- the antlers especially.

Stannis was anxiously watching for her reaction, and Sansa made an effort to change her look of dumbfounded shock into an expression of elated pleasure.

“This is perfect!” she exclaimed, her voice almost a squeal of delight.

Stannis looked relieved and gratified by her response, his shoulders relaxing noticeably. “As I said, you don’t have to move in if you don’t want to, but I’ve made space for your things.”

Sansa gaped at him. She hadn’t realised the full extent of the meaning behind the key. She had just thought he wanted her to be welcome to come and go as she pleased, without having to make sure he was at home first. Now she understood that he actually meant for her to move in -- if she wanted. 

Did she want to?

“Of course I want to move in with you!” This time she did squeal with happiness and she threw her arms around Stannis’ neck to hug him. He accepted the hug readily, although she heard him clear his throat uncomfortably. She imagined he was looking around nervously, worried that anyone might see. It was all very well for him to stare at her all evening like other people didn’t exist, and hold on to her waist like she might float away if he let go, but _hugging_? That was surely improper in public.

She giggled quietly at her own thoughts and let him go.

“You’re certain?” Stannis asked, looking at her searchingly.

Sansa thought about it for a moment, considering it from more than one angle. “I think we should do it gradually, and maybe not tell Dad until Christmas, but _yes_ I definitely want to move in with you,” she said decisively, smiling so widely that it made her face hurt.

Stannis looked at her, his eyes smiling and the corners of his mouth turning up as much as they ever did. He was obviously very pleased, and Sansa felt happy to have pleased him. She hoped that living together would mean seeing him look so content more often. 

Sansa placed her new key in her clutch, feeling like she was tucking away a precious treasure.

Her feet didn’t feel tired at all now that she was so happy, so she jumped to her feet and waited impatiently for Stannis to get up too. “We have to celebrate!” she told him, floating towards the dance floor as if she were gliding on water, not walking on exhausted feet in very high heels.

They were just in time to dance the last dance of the evening, and Sansa felt like it was _perfect._ She was smiling the whole time, feeling completely smitten and lost to the rest of the world. All she could see was Stannis, and all she could think about was how soon she would be waking up to his kisses every morning, perhaps greeting him when he got back from work, and spending most evenings in his company.

Nothing that Mr. Baelish, Joffrey, Cersei or their ilk could do would ever be able to spoil the happiness she felt in that moment. They didn’t matter.

Only the love she felt for Stannis and the love she knew he felt for her mattered.

***

Stannis was glad that he had decided to give Sansa the key despite the horrible start to the evening. She had looked overjoyed, and when he had danced the last dance with her, it was almost as if she had never even met anyone named Petyr Baelish.

He still could not quite believe that Baelish had _dared_ , that he’d had the _gall_ to lay a hand on Sansa against her will. Every time he recalled the awful sight of the man trapping Sansa against that wall, his hand at her throat - cruelly holding her face - kissing her as tears rolled down her cheeks… It made his blood boil all over again. He could not remember ever feeling as enraged. He had wanted to _murder_ Littlefinger. He might have tried to strangle him with his bare hands if it hadn’t been for Sansa. She did not need to see anything like that. She was too kind, too _innocent_ to see that kind of brutal ugliness.

Stannis hoped Sansa would make the choice to seek justice for what Baelish had done. She was in the rare position of having hard evidence against him, all due to her quick thinking. He was amazed at her ability to make such an intelligent move in what must have been truly harrowing circumstances, and wryly thought that he’d make a chess player of her yet.

Reaching for a loose tendril of her hair, he gazed at her sleeping face with affection. She was breathtaking, and she was sleeping next to him. She had agreed to move in with him! This stunning, intelligent, strong, kind and _amazing_ woman had agreed to move in with _him._

He gently brushed the lock of fiery hair away from her cheek, hoping it would not disturb her sleep. 

She really was so very strong. She had come through the abusive relationship with Joffrey with her kind heart intact, ready to love and trust again. She had brushed tonight’s experience off with barely a whimper, not allowing it to tarnish her happiness. She even went about her life as if petty strangers did not attempt to document her every move, and speculate crudely about her private affairs.

Stannis wanted to wake her up so that he could kiss every inch of her skin and stroke all the places that made her moan and shiver. He did not care that he had already done so less than an hour ago. He wanted to get drunk on her pleasure and show her how much he cared for her.

Still, he could not bring himself to wake her. She looked so peaceful. 

Perhaps in the morning…

***

_Stannis Baratheon and Sansa Stark Take Relationship Public_

_As our readers already know, Stannis Baratheon and Sansa Stark have been hot and heavy since their romantic holiday in Dorne this summer. Some said it was a summer fling, sure to go up in flames. Others - yours truly included - insisted that they were the Real Deal. A power couple for the ages!_

_Well, dear readers, it seems that King’s Landing’s own Beauty and the Beast are definitely in it for the long haul._

_As the pictures from the Opera House gala show, Stannis arrived with a dazzling Sansa - his official date - on his arm and according to our sources he barely left her side for the whole evening. So don’t let that surly scowl fool you, dear readers, Stannis Baratehon is all the way off the market, and well pleased about it too!_

_Let’s not forget that this Baratheon brother has not been connected to any woman before or after his first wife, Lady Selyse d'Armagnac née Florent, so it could very well be that we can expect wedding bells to ring in the near future…_

Margaery finished reading the latest ‘news’ to Sansa, giving her an expectant look. The two of them were camped out in a quiet area of their gym, stretching after a lengthy session of weight training. Margaery had her phone in front of her nose, even as she sank into a split.

“I’m moving in with him, not _marrying_ him,” Sansa rolled her eyes, “I’m only eighteen!” She was sitting with her legs stretched out in front of her, bending forwards and touching her forehead to her knees. Secretly she was very relieved that the bloggers were only speculating about potential weddings and had not managed to catch wind of what had happened in the rose gardens.

Margaery laughed. “You’ll be nineteen soon enough.”

Sansa rose from her stretch and shook her head. “That’s not the point. I’m too young to think about marriage yet.”

“Well, duh.” Margaery twisted herself into a complicated position that defied description. Sansa copied her. “Would you say no if he asked you, though?”

Sansa blushed. She was relatively sure Stannis wouldn’t ask for anything so serious quite yet, but then again he _had_ asked her to move in with him after less than six months of dating. She imagined him going to one knee and presenting her with a ring, and felt herself blush even more. No one needed to know about the wedding gown she had designed in her head...

“Gods! You are _hopeless,_ ” Margaery exclaimed, “you’d say yes in a second, wouldn’t you?” She shook her head incredulously. “Disgusting. Absolutely disgusting.”

“He’s not going to ask! Stop teasing.” Sansa moved to her feet, falling into the Dancer’s yoga pose that would stretch the front of one thigh properly.

“He will ask. Maybe not yet, but he will,” Margaery said, sounding dead certain. She was stretching her triceps carelessly, eyes boring into Sansa.

Sansa switched legs, bit her lip and stayed silent. She did not know how to respond to Margaery’s claim.

In Sansa’s opinion, life was going much too well to worry about future marriage proposals. 

Mr. Baelish was gone from KLSE, and Sansa was preparing to go to the police with her evidence against him. She had talked it over with Stannis and an attorney, and as Stannis was sure this was not the first time Mr. Baelish had pulled this kind of stunt with a female student, Sansa had made discreet enquiries online. She was already getting responses from girls who were eager to add their testimony to hers, and the attorney thought it would definitely be at least enough to prevent Mr. Baelish from being able to attain such a position of power again. Sansa was hoping for a little jail time, but considering that Mr. Baelish was a very wealthy man, her attorney thought it unlikely.

She had not heard a peep from Cersei or Joffrey, but Sandor had sent her a picture of himself, obviously on a road trip and enjoying his time away from the Lannisters. She made sure to tell him that he could always count on her for help if he ran into trouble, financial or otherwise. He said not to worry, he’d saved up a small fortune over the years skimming off Joffrey’s careless behaviour with money and valuable objects. Sansa wasn’t sure she entirely approved of doing something like that, but seeing as Joffrey was the victim… Well. She couldn’t really find it in her heart to be upset about it.

She had almost finished moving all of her things to Stannis’ apartment, and had already told her mother about the news. Catelyn agreed that Ned should probably not be told quite yet, and asked whether Sansa wouldn’t come visit them in Winterfell soon. Sansa promised she would, and secretly looked forward to seeing her annoying younger siblings again. Even Arya.

Shireen called Sansa a few days after the eventful gala evening, excited about the fact that Sansa was moving in with her father. They talked for a long time, and Shireen made Sansa promise to help her father rearrange the kitchen so that he’d finally be able to find things without having to call in a search party. The younger girl also asked Sansa promise to bring all of her romance novels. Sansa thought she should probably ask Stannis before she did that. Ever since she had convinced him to read one of her books, he’d been increasingly horrified about his daughter’s hobby. Sansa thought it was hilarious, but kept a straight face about it. Most of the time.

Living with Stannis was wonderful, although it was sometimes a bit of a challenge. They were adjusting to a new routine, and sometimes got in each other’s way. Thankfully the apartment was big, and they always had an empty room to retreat to if they needed space. Mostly they only visited the unused rooms to satisfy Stannis’ weird wish to have sex in every room in the apartment. It was a wish Sansa had no problem granting, as it could be quite interesting. She had particularly enjoyed their encounter in the room Stannis used as a gym due to the floor-to-ceiling mirrors.

Sansa bit her lip and blushed a little at the memory, glad that she and Margaery had finished stretching and were fetching their things from the locker room. Her friend would not be able to see her blushing as Sansa’s locker was on the opposite side from Margaery’s.

As Sansa drove her little bug back to the apartment, looking forward to a nice shower, she wondered whether she’d be able to convince Stannis to give the gym room another go. She really hoped so as she had some fairly interesting ideas she wanted to try out in front of a mirror.

All thoughts of proposals and weddings had been buried deep in her memory by the time she got home, and she didn’t think about what she might say if Stannis proposed for many months to come.

When the time eventually did arrive, not long after Sansa graduated KLSE near the top of her class, Margaery turned out to be exactly right. 

Sansa said yes in a second.

**The end.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be an epilogue, so technically the story is 29 chapters! Thank you so much for sticking with this story, I appreciate every single reader. You're all so lovely!


	29. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so sugary that you may get a tooth ache. Fair warning!

Stannis took a deep breath. He was about to intentionally talk to Robert. On purpose. He hardly ever did this, but for Sansa he would do _anything._

She was almost twenty-two and getting more stunningly beautiful every day. Fully a young woman, independently wealthy now that she had access to her trust fund, just graduated from KLSE with some of the highest grades in her year and would be starting as an intern at Stark and Sons in a few weeks time… She had her whole life ahead of her and the future was bright.

Stannis couldn’t stand the thought of not being a part of that future. Perhaps it was selfish of him, but he could not wait for much longer to ask her to be his wife. He just would not feel at ease until he had vowed to be hers and heard her vow to be his.

He’d seen the lingering looks she’d been shooting the bridal magazines whenever they were at the shops so he was fairly sure that Sansa would not object to a wedding. He just hoped that she wouldn’t object to a _marriage._ Stannis knew very well that wanting a wedding and wanting a marriage were two separate things. Strange as that might seem.

Still, they had been living together just as a husband and wife would for years now. Signing a piece of paper would not make a big difference to how they lived their life. It would just make him feel better. Official.

He sighed and looked at the door in front of him. He really should stop procrastinating and knock on the damn thing. The sooner he went inside, the sooner this conversation would be over.

Stannis knocked.

Robert’s butler opened the door. Stannis restrained himself from rolling his eyes. He thought it was excessive and pretentious to have a _butler._

“I’m here to see my brother,” he explained to the man. The butler raised an eyebrow. 

“Where is he?” Stannis asked, impatient and abrupt.

“Mr. Baratheon is in the billiard room,” the butler said sedately.

Stannis nodded curtly and was off to find his brother without another word.

He found his brother with a tumbler of whiskey in one hand and a billiard cue in the other.

“Stannis!” Robert exclaimed in delight, “get another cue! This is much more fun with an opponent.” His brother truly seemed happy to see him. Gods, he must have been bored.

Stannis wanted to keep in his brother’s good graces since he was about to ask for a rather big favour. He wordlessly went to the cue rack and chose one of the several identical, barely used cues.

“What brings you to my house little brother?” Robert asked cheerfully, setting his tumbler down on the edge of the billiard table and setting the first shot up, tongue sticking out of his mouth.

Stannis watched as Robert sent the billiard balls clanging off each other and the side of the table, sinking two into side pockets. As Robert moved to set up his next shot, he decided just to ask straight out for what he had come for. He had prepared a speech, but he found himself too impatient to bother with it.

“I would like Mother’s ring,” he said simply.

Robert’s cue hit the white ball, but it was a completely wild, off-kilter shot, sending it bouncing to the floor. Robert did not seem to notice or care.

“What?” he yelped, gaping at Stannis.

Stannis kept a straight face and went to set up his own shot, picking the white ball up from the floor.

“As the Baratheon heir, you rightfully inherited Mother’s engagement ring. I’d like it. You’re certainly not using it and I rather doubt Renly will ever want it. I want to give it to Sansa,” Stannis explained calmly, though his heart was beating rather fast.

Asking Robert for the ring was a risk. He’d need to propose right away if he wanted to surprise Sansa with it. If he left it too long, Robert would have a chance to blab.

It would be worth it if Robert could be convinced to give up the precious jewel. Stannis could think of no better ring for Sansa, but he knew Robert was very attached to it. After all, it was the ring he had intended to give to Lyanna. That much he knew.

Stannis sank a ball into a side pocket, and moved to line up his next shot. He was uncomfortably aware of Robert staring and gaping at him.

“You want mother’s ring? For Sansa?” Robert asked at last, seemingly a bit dazed. Then, shaking his head a little and breaking out into a smile, “you’re finally asking Sansa to marry you, eh?” He went to pick up his tumbler of whiskey, downing the rest of the contents in one sip, smacking his lips and sighing happily.

Stannis sank a second ball and nodded once, glancing at his brother quickly. Robert was looking very pleased. That was a good sign. Maybe that meant he would give the ring up?

“Who would have thought it… Remember those rumours from back when you just started dating? About how Ned and I must have arranged for you and Sansa to get married?” Robert was laughing, and Stannis missed his third shot, gritting his teeth in annoyance. Why was Robert bringing that utter nonsense up?

“The ring, Robert?” Stannis bit out, trying to keep a civil tongue in his head. He hated the fact that he needed Robert to be in a good, _generous_ mood. He moved away from the table, searching for some chalk for something to do.

Robert moved to line up a shot of his own. “You know I meant to give Lyanna that ring, Stannis,” he said conversationally, taking forever to aim.

“I know,” Stannis said solemnly, absently rubbing chalk on the tip of his cue.

Robert took the shot. The ball rolled lazily into a corner pocket. Robert stood up with a pleased look on his face and came over to get the chalk from Stannis.

“How much do you want it?” Robert asked, an evil glint in his eye. He started to rub chalk on the tip of his own cue, looking at Stannis more than at what he was doing. He was getting chalk all over his fingers.

“Very much,” Stannis ground out, still attempting to be polite but getting more irritated with his brother by the minute.

Robert grinned like a lunatic and went to the table, aiming at a fresh ball. “What would you do for it?” he asked in a teasing tone of voice. He managed a pretty impressive shot, the white ball hitting a ball which in turn nudged another ball into a side pocket. Stannis was careful not to show that he was impressed when Robert looked at him proudly.

“I don’t know, Robert. What do you want?” Stannis sighed, feeling suddenly very tired.

“You know,” Robert began conversationally, a note of unholy glee in his voice, “I always wondered about some rumours I heard about you.” He looked at Stannis instead of at what he was doing, and the shot he had been setting up went completely wide of its target. “Oops.” Robert frowned at the table, but moved to allow Stannis to take his turn.

“What rumours?” Stannis asked warily.

“I heard from a man who works on your floor at Dragonstone that the summer you started dating Sansa she came to visit your office once. He said that he was one of the few still working that day. Apparently she _closed the blinds._ ”

Stannis could feel Robert’s shrewd gaze on him, and felt a strong sense of foreboding. He tried to focus on lining up his shot, but he was too hyper-aware of Robert to have much concentration left for the game.

“I remember a very… _odd_ phone call with you around the time that was supposed to have happened. You sounded very - ah - out of breath?”

Stannis accidentally sank the black ball. _How on earth had Robert managed to remember that?_

Robert smirked at him, obviously aware that he was on to something. Stannis tried to make his face a neutral mask, but he could feel himself going a little red, and his heart was beating unnecessarily fast.

Ignoring the billiard game, Robert fixed a probing gaze on Stannis.

“I’ll give you the ring if you tell me exactly what was going on during that phone call,” Robert said and raised an eyebrow challengingly.

Stannis felt his shoulders slump slightly and he looked at the ceiling in despair. Would his brother never get tired of humiliating him? Stannis wondered if the ring was worth admitting the truth to his brother. Surely he could buy a similar ring somewhere? Sansa wouldn’t really care, would she?

She probably wouldn’t, Stannis thought, but _he cared._ He wanted Sansa to have his mother’s ring. It felt fitting, and like he had said to Robert -- it wasn’t as if Robert or Renly were giving it to anyone. It was just sitting and gathering dust.

Stannis glared at Robert and ground his teeth, feeling his face redden even further at what he was about to say.

“She was - she gave, uh. She went - _you know_.” He had never felt as uncomfortable in his entire life, he was fairly sure. Including the time he nearly starved to death in Vietnam.

Robert was grinning at him as if Christmas had come early. “No, I’m afraid I have no idea what you mean. Speak up!”

Stannis wondered if the butler would rat him out if he stabbed his brother with a billiard cue and absconded with the ring. Well, first the butler would have to help him _find_ the ring, so he’d be an accomplice. It might work.

Stannis closed his eyes, thinking this might be easier to get out if he weren’t looking at his stupid brother’s gloating face. He took a deep breath and ignored the way his face felt like it was burning.

“Sansa went - she went down on me, and it was the first time she had ever done so. I was unprepared for her to do something like that, and since I was on the phone with _you_ I couldn’t tell her to stop,” he reeled off, speaking much faster than he normally would.

Robert cracked up, laughing so loudly that Stannis was sure the neighbours in the mansion across the lake could probably hear. He cringed and kept his eyes shut, feeling more embarrassed than he could ever remember feeling.

_It’s for Sansa. It’s for the ring. For Sansa,_ he remembered, steeling himself and preparing to open his eyes and face his brother.

“I’m sure you really wanted her to stop,” Robert said, his booming laughter dying down to chuckling at a more reasonable volume. Was he actually wiping tears of mirth from his eyes? Mortifying. This was _mortifying._

“Well?” Stannis said, desperate to change the subject.

“Well what?” Robert asked, still chuckling.

“The ring?” Stannis crossed his arms and scowled at his brother. His face still felt red.

“Of course, of course!” Robert grinned, “come with me, I know it’s around here somewhere.”

They abandoned the billiard game and Stannis followed Robert on a search around the house. Eventually the ring turned up in a small box under a pile of Robert’s ties in the bedroom closet.

Stannis shook his head slightly at the location and the mess but didn’t comment. Robert was giving him the ring, he did not want to risk upsetting his brother and making him change his mind. Not after what he’d been forced to tell him!

Stannis opened the box and looked at the familiar ring. He had seen it on his mother’s hand throughout his entire childhood. He could even remember asking her about it once, and how she had fondly told him the story of how his father had proposed to her. It had made her face glow and she had smiled in a way that Stannis would never forget for as long as he lived. He wanted to give that to Sansa. A memory worth such a smile. The ring was instrumental, he felt.

It was an emerald surrounded by small diamonds on a white gold band. It was a little old fashioned, and perhaps unusual since the centrepiece was not a diamond, but Stannis could not imagine a more perfect ring for Sansa.

“Mother once told me that the emerald is known as the _’Stone of Successful Love’,_ ” Robert said thoughtfully.

Stannis raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t known that, but he immediately liked the ring even more for it.

“I suppose that’s more you and Sansa than me and Lyanna,” Robert said and smiled sadly, “I’m glad it’s going to a Stark woman anyway.” He clapped Stannis on the shoulder painfully. Stannis did his best not to cringe away. “It seems quite poetic!” Robert laughed, obviously attempting to lighten his own mood.

Stannis closed the box and gripped it tightly. No one would pry this box from him until he had a chance to present it to Sansa.

“How about it, want to finish the game?” Robert asked, already walking towards the hallway.

“No, thank you. I have some arrangements to make,” Stannis said, attempting to sound polite. It was very difficult.

“Have you talked to Ned, yet?” Robert peered at him curiously.

Stannis shook his head. “No, I wanted to see if you’d give me the ring first,” he explained, clutching the box even more tightly.

“Do you want me to talk to him?” Robert offered with a grin.

Stannis imagined Robert laughingly telling Eddard all about the story he had just been forced to tell his brother and felt cold sweat start to run down his back. “No!” he blurted. Then, wincing, he tried again. “No, thank you.”

“As you wish, little brother! Just as you wish.” His brother looked much too jolly. It seemed to be a permanent affliction.

The idea of Robert telling Eddard the story was still nagging at Stannis, and he thought he should do his best to prevent his loudmouthed sibling from spreading it around. He took a deep breath and prepared to beg.

“Robert, please, do not tell _anyone_ what I told you. I’m not asking for my sake, but for Sansa’s. _Please_.” That didn’t hurt too much. His dignity just died a little more. Nothing serious.

Robert actually looked solemn for once and he nodded. “Of course I won’t tell anyone. You know I care about Sansa too. Anyway, Ned would kill me.” He smiled and chortled, “I’ll just keep it between the two of us!”

Wonderful. Stannis would never live this down. _Never._

***

Stannis did not hesitate to knock on the next door he was faced with. He had established a solid rapport with Eddard over the years, and he was sure that the older man would be pleased to hear of Stannis’ plan to propose to Sansa. He thought Catelyn would be pleased as well.

Still, he wanted to make sure everything was cleared with Sansa’s parents before he asked her.

The door swung open to reveal Arya.

“Hello Stannis, where’s Sansa?” Arya was looking around, unused to Stannis appearing without having Sansa with him. Arya was as wild as ever, but a rebellious teenager now, with rather a lot of eyeliner. She still liked playing chess, however, and was getting quite good. He thought she might stand a chance at beating him one of these days.

“She’s not with me today, I’m here to speak to your parents,” Stannis explained uncomfortably.

“Oh,” Arya shrugged, “MUM! DAD! Stannis is here to see you!” she yelled over her shoulder. Then she left the front door wide open and walked off to presumably resume whatever activity she had abandoned to open the door.

Stannis’ ears were ringing from the volume of Arya’s yelling, and he closed his eyes briefly and brought a hand to one temple, massaging it. He stepped inside the house and closed the door behind him. Soon Catelyn appeared with a gracious smile on her face.

“Stannis darling, how may I help you?” She was looking rather surprised at his sudden visit, but not displeased.

“I was hoping to speak to you and Eddard about something.” Stannis felt awkward, stiff and suddenly much more nervous than he had felt outside the door. What if they didn’t approve of his plans for Sansa? What if they told him that he was not good enough for her? He knew it was ridiculous to think such thoughts, but they accosted him anyway.

“Of course, Ned’s in the kitchen. We were just having tea.”

Soon the three of them were sitting in the kitchen, cups of tea and an assortment of biscuits arranged in front of them. Stannis played with his teacup for something to do with his hands, but did not drink.

Stannis had noticed Catelyn and Eddard exchanging meaningful looks, but they were looking at him expectantly now, waiting for him to speak.

Feeling like it might be easier to show them than tell them, he reached into his inside jacket pocket and produced the little box he had won off Robert. He opened it and placed it on the table.

Catelyn gasped and got all teary eyed at once. Eddard looked like he had just had his suspicions confirmed and was not certain whether to be pleased or not.

“Oh, Stannis! You’re going to propose?” Catelyn’s voice was high pitched and emotional and she was fanning her face uselessly in an attempt to keep the tears at bay.

Stannis nodded. “There is nothing I want more than to ask Sansa to marry me. I wish for your consent to ask her,” he said, surprised at how steady and calm he sounded.

Eddard was looking at him very intently and Stannis held his gaze confidently. He loved Sansa and meant to take care of her and cherish her. He had nothing to hide from Eddard.

He passed the test. Eddard smiled, grinning from ear to ear. “That’s wonderful to hear, son!” Eddard reached to clap him on the shoulder. It did not feel as painful as when Robert did it. “Ask her with our blessing,” Eddard added glancing at Catelyn and nodding. Catelyn was nodding too, still looking rather emotional.

Stannis was immensely relieved.

Eddard went suddenly still and looked at Stannis with a mischievous glint in his eyes, he had obviously had some kind of idea. Stannis felt his stomach knot up in response, his shoulders tensing. _What now?_

“Just one condition,” Eddard said, looking at his wife with a playful expression on his face. She looked back in surprise and confusion. Eddard turned to address Stannis with a grin. “You have to start calling me Ned.”

***

Stannis was not one for grand romantic gestures. He tended to think they were useless and frivolous. Why on earth would a woman ever need a thousand red roses? Why would she need a message written in the sky? He could understand something like buying a woman a dress and taking her to see the ballet or to a nice event. That made _sense._ But hiring a marching band and, what, half a circus? To make some kind of grand statement? That made no sense.

Still, Stannis wanted to create a memory for Sansa. Something to make her smile like his mother had smiled.

His father had taken Cassana out on his yacht, prepared a sumptuous dinner, plied her with fine wines and sailed until they were alone with the moon and the stars. He’d gone down on one knee and presented her with the same emerald engagement ring that Stannis had kept on his person since he had got his hands on it yesterday. (He’d had to hide it while he slept next to Sansa, and kept waking up to check on it.) His mother had said it was the most romantic moment of her life.

What could he do for Sansa?

Nothing he thought of seemed right. 

It was Sunday, and Sansa was staying at home, curled up on the sofa with a romance novel. He was sitting in an armchair close by, pretending to read a report for work as a flimsy excuse to be near her. It was almost three in the afternoon already, and he hadn’t thought of _anything._ He felt like he really needed to get it done as soon as possible, before his intentions became public knowledge because of his brother. Stannis did not believe for one second that Robert would be able to keep his mouth shut about the fact that Stannis was about to propose. Every time Sansa’s phone made a noise he flinched, sure that this time it would be one of her friends sending her a link to blog with a ridiculous title like _Baratheon-Stark Engagement at Last?_

“Stannis, is something wrong?” Sansa asked when he flinched for the fourth time in less than half an hour.

“No, nothing. Nothing is wrong,” he said quickly, his voice a little hoarse from disuse.

Sansa looked at him with a calculating expression. Then she brightened and put her novel aside. She came over to his chair and easily plucked the report from his grasp, dropping it to the floor carelessly. He frowned at the report on the floor and then looked at her in bewilderment.

His confusion abated when she sat down sideways in his lap, leaning her head against him, burying her face in his neck. Her voice was muffled when she spoke.

“Do you want to go to bed _really_ early?” She kissed his neck in a way that rarely failed to arouse him.

Planning the perfect proposal would have to wait for a while.

Stannis stood up and carried Sansa to bed, feeling that it was the most expedient course of action. She continued kissing his neck up until he put her down, at which point she started to pull her clothes off helpfully. He stood watching her for a few moments until she looked at him pointedly, reminding him that he should be taking his own clothes off. Not just staring.

He generally always needed reminding. She was quite pleasant to stare at. All that smooth skin, those soft curves, and little coquettish smiles.

He was wearing his comfortable Sunday clothes and was grateful for the lack of shirt-buttons to wrangle because he was already feeling very impatient and wishing to join her on the bed. His loose fitting jeans were thankfully not too restrictive, but it would still feel good to get his erection free.

He haphazardly pulled his jeans off, almost turning them inside out in the process, his thoughts only of Sansa and how much he wanted to be with her. There was a loud clatter as a hard object hit the floor. _The box._ He’d forgot all about putting it in his jeans pocket!

Sansa was looking curiously at the floor, wearing only her underwear.

“What’s that?” She tilted her head to the side, her eyes wide.

“A box,” he said truthfully. Maybe she wouldn’t ask him any more questions? If she did, he could always just pounce on her and distract her.

“What’s inside the box?” She was leaning towards him, giving him a pretty exceptional view of her cleavage. Pouncing on her would definitely not be a chore. Before he had a chance to try it, she had got out of bed and scooped the small object up from the floor.

“Stannis?” She handed him the box without attempting to open it. He accepted it mutely.

_To hell with it._

He got on one knee and opened the box. Sansa’s eyes were impossibly wide, and her hands came up to cover her mouth.

“Sansa, would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?” They were in their underwear, and it was just a simple Sunday afternoon at their apartment, but hopefully it was romantic enough anyway.

Not a second went by before she dropped her hands from her face so that he would be able to hear her “ _Yes!_ ” loud and clear.

She tugged on his arms to indicate that she wanted him to stand up, so he did. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him so passionately that he staggered back a little. She felt perfect in his arms, warm and soft and _perfect._

The kiss broke and Sansa looked at the ring. “Should I try it on?”

“It’s yours now, of course you should.” His face felt odd. As if some severely disused muscles were getting a workout. A glimpse of himself in the mirror on one of his closet doors told him that he was smiling. Really smiling in a way he hadn’t smiled since he was a child. It made his cheeks ache and was really very strange.

Stannis pulled the ring out of the box and reached for Sansa’s hand. He knew the ring might not fit, as he hadn’t had time to get it re-sized, but he started to slide it onto her ring finger anyway. It was perhaps a little bit loose, but it would do for now.

“I’m sorry it’s not the right size yet. It was my mother’s engagement ring. I only just got Robert to hand it over yesterday,” Stannis apologised, taking his eyes off the ring on her hand to look at her face.

She was looking at him as if he were the most wonderful man she had ever seen, there were tears in her eyes, and her smile… It was just the same sort of smile he had seen on his mother’s face. 

His heart suddenly felt almost too big for his chest, and he thought he should probably sit down soon. Seeing her look at him that way, with that ring on her finger was too much. He did not deserve to feel this, to have this, to have _her._

“It’s perfect. Truly. It’s the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen,” Sansa said, sounding emotionally fraught. “I’m so honoured.” She was blinking very fast, attempting to hold back her tears.

Stannis had never quite got the hang of tears, but at least these seemed to be happy tears. He decided to kiss her and see if that helped. She kissed him back eagerly, so he supposed that it did.

Kissing led to more kissing, which led to their underwear somehow disappearing, which led to a very pleasant afternoon.

***

When asked, Stannis and Sansa always described their proposal exactly the way it happened. Except they told people that they had been in the living room, and conveniently forgot to mention that they had been in their underwear. In their story, Stannis generally just accidentally dropped the box on the floor, instead of it flying out of his jeans pocket because he was in such a hurry to get undressed for Sansa.

No one needed to know the details. It was their little secret.

If you looked closely, you could see the secret in the curve of Sansa’s smile when she spoke of it, but only if you knew it was there like he did. He thought it only improved upon the special smile, and never regretted his failure to think of an appropriately grand, romantic proposal.

Sansa said he more than made up for it by taking her on a three month long honeymoon, touring most of the countries that she had always dreamed of visiting but never had the chance to. She had been especially thrilled to finally go to Moscow to see the Russian ballet.

Stannis never explained that his reason for taking her on the trip was twofold. It was mainly to fulfil her dreams of travel, but he also thought it would be interesting to have sex in as many countries as possible. (The sex had been best in Russia. Sansa had been so overwhelmingly _happy_ after the ballet…) He wasn’t entirely sure she’d want to know about this secondary reason, though he thought she might suspect it. After all, she had been very indulgent about his wish to try every room in his apartment.

She was starting to know him better than he knew himself. 

Sansa also always seemed to know where everything was. His irritating morning ritual of searching for his phone and his keys had turned into a much more pleasant ritual of accepting the items from Sansa. Sometimes she would roll her eyes and comment on where she’d found them this time. Usually she would just kiss him.

They hadn’t been married for a very long time at all when he caught himself thinking what he would ever do without her. He couldn’t imagine not having her in his life.

Perhaps his brother had been right when he had given that horribly embarrassing speech at their wedding reception. (Stannis had been amazed at how Robert had resisted _’celebrating’_ himself into a stupor for long enough to give it.) Robert had said that Stannis should really thank him every day for the rest of his life for forcing everyone to squeeze into that jeep all those years ago.

The look on Ned’s face when he found about the Jeep Incident was enough to prevent him from being _too_ thankful, however.

Still, Stannis was secretly very pleased when Robert decided to keep the jeep in question instead of selling it off when he wanted a new toy.

It was a pretty good jeep, after all.

 

**Super really the end now.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading. Seriously, it's been rather overwhelming to get such a positive response. You are all so amazing!
> 
> Special thanks to my beta [spittingfeathers](http://archiveofourown.org/users/spittingfeathers/pseuds/spittingfeathers) for taking pity on an Icelander who messes up the English language and hasn't got a clue when it comes to punctuation. Every mistake left over is mine, but there would surely be way more goofs if it weren't for her.
> 
> I never thought I'd write such a long fanfic again. I haven't since I was about 15 years old. It was amazing how quickly the habit of writing came back. I might even write some more Stansa in the future. We'll see!


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